


Chasing the Fall

by midnightshades



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Dean's Time In Hell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightshades/pseuds/midnightshades
Summary: “Hey, look at me,” Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, not remembering when it was that he looked away, “You’re not lost, Castiel. Family doesn’t have to be blood, or grace in your case. It’s something to be earned. You're our friend and if you trust us enough, you have a home here, buddy.”The hunter might not realize what he is offering, he truly does not deserve the company of someone like Dean. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, tying down all the loose ends of the storm brewing in his chest. Before he leaves, he finds Dean's gaze one last time, “You truly are something else, Dean.”Dean gives him a hint of a smile, “You’re not too bad either.”~Castiel has commands to follow and Dean has the world to save.Falling in love was never a part of the plan.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes before we begin: 
> 
> 1\. The tags mention Canon divergence, but the events until Season 3 finale has happened just as it is. The plot takes an alternate path after Dean's return from hell.  
> 2\. This fic has no beta so if I have screwed up somewhere, do yell at me. If yelling does not suffice, we can settle the issue with a sword fight in the nearest empty parking lot.  
> 3\. The setting of heaven in this fic is a little different. There is an administrative area which is more or less like an office. The personal heavens for humans are a separate part of heaven and the rest of it is more or less endless. Heaven is to angels how Earth is to humans. All angels posses equal amounts of power in heaven and cannot use their mojo to overpower another angel.  
> 4\. That's it, now enjoy.

### Prologue

The warm evening breeze blows past, flowing gingerly against the leaves in its path. Castiel leans against the white oak, folding his hands over his chest. He watches as the scene unfolds in front of him, the group of four gathered around the grave of the righteous man. The young woman is leaning against her mother, whose hands tremble as she wipes the tears away from her daughter’s face. The older man looks stoic, as though burying his surrogate son is something he has been anticipating for a long time. Humans are complicated; from billions of years of observing life being formed and evolved, Castiel can state with surety - humans are a gorgeous mystery.

The only readable emotion is the one on the vessel’s brother’s face, dread, agony and torment emitting from the man like sturdy waves, and Castiel can sense his soul whimpering strongly even from the distance. As limiting as the human form is, Castiel requires only a minimal channeling of his grace to decipher the murmur. 

“You stupid self sacrificing son of a bitch. Who woulda guessed you’d kick the bucket this soon.” Robert Singer chokes out, voice thick and pain ridden. “I’m proud of you, idjit, you gotta know that. Your dad ain’t half the man you were.” A hard gulp, “I’ll miss you, son.”

The younger Winchester stands on his feet, legs shaking as he approaches the coffin.

“This is not a goodbye, brother. I promise.” Dark clouds circle above them, looming like shadow figures about to break open.

A flash of light and a single rumble of thunder.

_Is everything happening as intended, Castiel?_

_Yes, Zachariah. The hunter is about to be buried, need not worry._

_That is good, now you shall return. We have a lot of tasks to accomplish prior to your mission._

_If I may, I shall like to stay until the burial is complete._

_Very well._

The coffin lid is pulled shut and Sam Winchester lowers his brother to the ground, silence filling the deserted forest. The last grain of sand evens out on the floor of the clearing and Castiel returns back to heaven, prepared to embark upon his mission. 

Days pass and there is absolute tranquility in heaven. No orders are given forth, no briefings are held. After nearly a fortnight, Castiel receives his first message.

_There is a change in our earlier discussed plans._

Castiel slowly lowers himself to the ground, folding his wings behind him. 

_What are my orders, then?_

_To wait. Armiel shall lead the mission, and you Castiel, serve a greater role._

_Pardon me, but I have been training for this mission for aeons. I am confident, Zachariah._

_Our father intends you to wait, Seraph. Armiel shall travel to hell and attempt to retrieve the chosen. Meanwhile, you are instructed to keep an eye on the younger Winchester._

_It shall be done._

Castiel waits. He waits as he watches the mutilated vessels of his brothers and sisters being disposed off. He keeps waiting as new warriors take up the suicide mission, sacrificing their lives to serve heaven. Castiel waits, knowing the sole purpose of his life is to fulfill his father’s orders and make sure the world moves as planned. Castiel does not make choices, he follows commands.

Months pass by and many of his brothers and sisters get wasted away in hell as they continue their search for the righteous man. Castiel silently observes humanity in the meantime, new life being born and old souls making their way back to heaven. Humans living their lives under the vision of free will, making choices with such confidence, believing they can shape their destiny. Castiel does not envy them, as choices lead to disobedience which in turn leads to fall; and that is a fate he does not wish upon anyone, let alone himself. 

Humans too, fall in their own way, making wrong choices over and over again, failing to learn from their mistakes. One such wrong path was being unfolded in front of Sam Winchester, the human Castiel was ordered to observe. The man was walking down a dangerous path, working with a demon to plot the destruction of another. Castiel should stop him, but he does not step ahead of his orders. So he waits, as the man slowly spirals down the precipice of wrong.

Castiel senses another one of his brothers being expended as the tremor shakes heaven. The impact is huge enough to wake the entire galaxy, yet the humans sleep through it like any other day.

_The first seal is broken._

_It’s time, Castiel._

The journey to hell is cumbersome, and Castiel finds all those years of his training inadequate as he lowers himself to pit. Millions of souls cry out to him, trying to reach him like moths to the fire. Castiel’s entire being cries out in agony as innumerable pleas reach his ears, but he keeps flying. None of the souls he met so far are the righteous man’s, then again, Castiel does not know what his soul looks like. His orders stated that he would know it when he sees it, so Castiel keeps flying. He keeps heading forward to some mysterious direction that his non corporeal self takes him, as though some intangible force, so raw and powerful, is calling out to him. Fire and ache rips and pulls at his grace, threatening to annihilate him but Castiel does not waver, he does not stop until his eyes fall on it.

The righteous man's soul is bright, brighter than anything he has seen in his entire existence. It does not cry or plead, barely reaches out to Castiel’s grace like a warm embrace. He finds himself drifting forward to the very beacon of light and hope in the land of death and destruction. 

He reaches out, brushing his touch against the brightly burning soul. The world dissolves around him.

Bliss.

Bliss is the only emotion he knows and feels in that moment. The soul in his arms is unlike anything he has ever felt. It is warm and full of heat yet cold and solid. Castiel’s wings soar high on its own accord, finding the need to separate the soul from everything it stands against. He wonders how none of his brothers and sisters were fortunate enough to experience this bliss. Perhaps he spoke too soon because stronger attacks are aimed his way, trying to pry away the soul from him. Castiel fights, he does not let go. It is not an option, the soul is threading itself into Castiel like vines creeping up a window sill, hold fierce and binding, providing him with the nerve to fight his way up. Castiel cannot let go, he does not want to.

He finds his way out of the cursed land, thunder and lightning booming like the sky is about to crash down on them. Heaven echoes with joy and hell screams in distress. 

It is done.

_Dean Winchester is saved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello children.
> 
> That was a prologue for what's about to follow. I will update the next chapter within the next two days and further updates will be weekly. Hope y'all liked that. Looking forward to your love and support.
> 
> That's it for today.  
> All my love,  
> -A


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic depictions of torture (not on any main character).

### Chapter 1

_"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."_

  
  
Dean hears screams from all around him. Then again, it’s nothing new. After nearly forty years, it’s hard to keep track of where the screams are coming from. It could be from anywhere. The people sprawled on different racks scream as blades dig into their skin. The one under Dean’s hands is not that loud, just really shrill. It’s not surprising considering she’s no older than thirteen. He wonders what she did to end up in hell, but then again, he doesn’t have to know all that if he’s going to tear her apart, limb by limb.

Dean’s head hurts, his whole body does. A part of him wants to stop so badly, to drop the blade and fall to his knees and just disappear. And the other part of him wants to feel the tender flesh under his fingers, to watch as he gets to rip apart souls like it’s just another toy.

“Come on, Dean.” Alastair croaks, his voice like acid burning through Dean’s ears. “Carve her up, pretty boy.”

Dean pretends he doesn’t hear the screams as he digs the end of the blade into her shoulder, dislocating her arm from the rest of her body. He wants to stop, he can’t. He likes it.

“Please...don’t-” Her words wither off as Dean slices her throat. It’s for her own good, he tells himself.

Alastair tsks. “Not so soon, Dean-o. You should’ve made her scream.” 

The demon waves his hand in dismissal and the rack disappears, only to be followed by another. This time it is a man in his mid twenties, so much left to live for. He doesn’t look anymore as he carves him up like a Jack O’Lantern. The screams are almost bearable if he lets his mind zone out. The blades have made home in Dean’s arms, almost like an extension of his own hand. Dean's hands have a mind of its own after so many years, cutting and peeling; it's easier than a fruit.

“That’s more like it.” Alastair grins, “If only you could see yourself now, covered in blood and guts. You belong here boy.”

Suddenly, Dean feels less heavy. He senses something in the pit of his stomach, anticipation building for something he doesn't even know. It's getting stronger by the minute, making him almost wanting to drop his blade and run in it's unknown direction.

“No.” Dean grits teeth.

“Deny all you want, Dean. You and I both know it. This is what you are.” A crash echoes from the distance. Alastair looks over his shoulder, the wicked grin on his face fading for a moment. “Hurry Dean, you still got a lot to learn.”

Another crash. 

Dean looks up, and in the distance he sees it, _wings._

Suddenly, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The screams grow fainter by the second. He doesn’t want to stop existing anymore. That probably means he is going to. His entire body feels like it’s floating towards something. Something so pure and undeniably heavenly. Dean drops his blade for the first time in forty years.

The figure grows closer to him and he wants to run face first into its warmth. Alastair is nowhere in sight, neither are his demons. Dean’s knees give out and he crumbles to the floor, unable to move or breathe or blink. The warm light gets closer by the minute. It swirls and spins, slashing and dodging whips and chains in its path, bright light and dark wings twisting together like a hurricane. Dean reaches out, knowing he would disintegrate right then if he doesn’t get closer to it. Whatever it is, it might have sensed him because it’s vigor increases, slicing its way towards Dean. 

A single touch is laid on his upper arm and Dean falls asleep, deep and painless.

******

Dean wakes up somewhere dark, certainly not spacious enough for it to be hell. First thing he does is breathe and boy, it feels good. 

John Winchester was a lot of things, but above all, he was a damn good hunter and Dean is thankful to his dad in that moment for teaching him how to crawl his way out of a coffin. Sure, no dad wakes up on a Sunday morning and goes ‘Right son, let's bury you alive today’, then again, John was no ordinary dad and their lives were nothing close to normal. It sure as hell paid off in the end. 

More air, so much more air. Fuck, the sky is so fucking gorgeous. And trees, _holy shit_ , trees are awesome. Dean just sits cross legged on the floor of the clearing and breathes for ten whole minutes, fresh air without the stench of blood and rotting bodies. He looks around for as long as he wants, making a mental note to beat the shit out of Sammy for burying him in the middle of nowhere. He wonders if his funeral party had strippers.

He gets up and walks until he finds the nearest corner store. He almost dials Sammy’s number but hangs up at the last minute. It’s not everyday someone’s dead brother comes back from hell and rings them up. So he calls Bobby instead, only to be hung upon as soon as he announces his - _great and not at all normal, probably will bite them in the ass later_ \- resurrection. He picks up a paper from that morning, the date being September 18th. Subtract the two and carry the one, he's been in hell for four months, human time. 

He tries to remember how he got here. He remembers light, something dark like ink and a lot of fire, so much more than usual. He remembers feeling peaceful and content and comes to the conclusion that he’s concussed because happiness and hell doesn't go together.

He catches a ride to Sioux Falls, hence having enough time to make up some explanation on how he's topside. Dean closes his eyes for what feels like a second and he's already drifting off. A flash of something dark, something like wings, wakes him up accompanied by the same kind of calmness that he remembers from back in hell. He sits up straight on the leans against the floppy seat of the truck, legs shaking as he wipes the sweat off his face.

He hops off the truck murmuring a thanks to the driver, and slumps down against the concrete sidewalk, feeling a little at ease. The streets are empty and the autumn wind is slow and warm. He closed his eyes again for a second only to snap them open as flashes of darkness and fire fill his mind.

"Alright assholes, listen up." Dean shouts in the general direction of the sky, hoping someone up there got their ears on. Maybe going with 'asshole' was a wrong move. "I don't know who or what is that yanked me out, stop fucking with my head. There, loud and clear, no more tricks." Dean feels stupid saying it, knowing damn well that all the answers he's looking for are not going to magically come knocking at his door. At most, the people living around there will think some homeless man is having a rough night. It's America, after all.

No demons pop up so Dean stands up to resume his walkathon, only to be pushed back to his knees by a headache so painful, his brain could spill out of his eyeballs and he wouldn't be surprised. And trust him, he knows what that looks like.

_Your visions are merely part of your experiences from hell. No voluntary intervention is being administered to your mind._

Dean clutches at his head as hot tears burn his eyes. He looks around, only to find good old nothing.

"Who the hell is there?" Still nothing. "Come on buddy, I don't got a magic lamp to rub."

_My incorporeal form will destroy your vision so I shall remain inconspicuous._

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_We shall meet soon. Until then, farewell, Dean Winchester._

Aw hell no. "Get back here you son of a bitch!"

The silence is too much. Dean never thought he'd be famous enough for some ethereal being to be his pen pal. The coal mining in his skull eventually fades out so he keeps walking. What feels like a week later, Dean sees the familiar 'Singer's Salvage' sign. A ragged breath escapes his lungs. _Home._

Dean knocks on the door, preparing himself for the onslaught of holy water, salt and silver and whatever other monster repellent Bobby has been cooking in his basement.

"You got some nerve showing up in my dead kid's meat suit." _Of fucking course._ Dean turns on his heels, hands shooting up in surrender. Bobby has a gun pointed at him and Dean doesn't move from his spot even a bit.

"Bobby, don't shoot." He manages.

"I ain't gonna promise." Bobby grumbles and Dean wants to run forward and wrap the man in a hug but he also doesn't wanna die, so he stays put. "Silver bullets with a little surprise for demons carved in it. So whatever you are, it ain't gonna be fun."

"Good work, Bobby." Dean smiles weekly, "But it's me, it's Dean." Dean absolutely does _not_ tear up. "I know it sounds crazy but yeah, it's me."

"Yeah right," Bobby snorts, "And I'm Van Halen."

"Look, I know it's weird. Hell, I myself don't know how I'm here." Dean says, "So you test me all you want and keep the gun up. Shoot me if I attack you."

He's a little surprised when Bobby takes up the offer, guess the day is full of surprises. He stands through all the ambush and lets himself get pulled into a hug.

“I could’ve sworn I buried you.” Bobby says, voice shaking.

“I know, Bobby, I was there.” Dean pulls away and grins, blinking back the tears, “I don’t know how I got here. One minute I was in hell and then I’m crawling my way out of a coffin.”

"You know that's not usually a good sign, right?" 

"Uh, yeah, my brain's still intact." _Almost,_ "Where's Sammy?"

"Beer run," Bobby replies, "Wait...you didn't call him?"

Dean shrugs.

"Aw hell, this is going to be some show."

******

Dean is on his eight slice of pizza when he hears the door creak open.

"So get this, Bobby," Sam doesn't bother placing both his feet into the house before starting the briefing, "There's gonna be a storm th-" Sam stops dead in his tracks, mouth agape as he stares at Dean.

"That was one long beer run, Sammy." Dean says, a shit eating grin on his face.

It's a deer and headlights situation for a whole minute before Sam's hand slides into his coat pocket and Dean knows his brother well enough to know what's coming next.

"Woah, easy tiger." Dean holds his hands up in surrender, "I just came back from the dead, give me a break." 

Sam catches Bobby's eyes, "Stay back, Bobby."

"It's him, Sam." Bobby backs him up, leaning against the door frame. Sam stares at him in disbelief and Bobby just sighs, "I ain't dumb, boy. It's really him."

"That's not…" Sam falters, "How are you...no." 

"Real smooth, Sammy." Dean snorts, "I don't know how, man. I just woke up in my own goddamn coffin a few hours ago. I know it's probably-" 

His words die out as giant limbs pull him into a hug.

"I don't care." Sam says, barely a whisper, "You’re alive."

"Sammy…" Dean chokes back the lump in his throat.

"If ya idjits done cuddling, get in here and help me with the dishes." Bobby walks off into the kitchen, ducking his head to hide the tears. Dean smiles. _Home._

******

"So, what exactly do you remember?" Sam asks, taking a pull from his beer. "I know you don't wanna talk about it-"

"Good, you're catching up."

"-but maybe just the part about how you got out?" 

"I don't remember, Sammy." _Three-fourths truth._ "I guess someone attacked hell and broke open the gate, and I probably walked out or some shit." Dean says, "Then again, I was dead _and_ in hell, not a reliable source."

"An attack, you say?" Sam paws at the distraction Dean threw out.

"Uh, yeah. Like some kind of light and…I don't know, dude." He leaves out the 'wings' at the expense of sounding like a nut job.

"Alright, okay…" Sam feverishly skims through the lore, "Demons are the only creatures who can go in and out of hell like that."

"No shit, smartass." 

Sam rolls his eyes, "But then," He continues, "There are mentions in here about the heavenly host organizing rampages to hell, but that was like thousands of years ago."

"Pardon me, but did you just say heaven?" Dean leans forward, peering into the hard bind book. _Those weren't wings, he tells himself._

"Forget it, Dean." Sam slams the books shut, picking another up. “It was just a far fetched hunch.”

“Can we do this like a week later?” Dean takes a long pull from his beer, “So what have you been up to, Sammy?”

“Just hunting.” Sam says, not taking his eyes off the book, “Check this out, reapers are granted entrance to hell under special circumstances. They can reap souls and carry their essence to hell without hindrance.”

“Does this look like ‘special circumstances’ to you?” Dean gestures vaguely at himself.

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam says, “Something really powerful pulled you out of there and things like that always have a catch.”

“I know that.” Dean sighs, “All I’m saying is, until we get some kind of proper lead, can you just hold your horses?”

Sam looks at him with his ‘shrink’ face, “Okay. We can do that.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Well then, where’s my baby?”

  
  


**********


	3. Chapter 3

### Chapter 2

_"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?"_  
  


Human relations are a mystery to Castiel. They live among thousands of their kind but a certain someone is chosen by them to stay by their side for the rest of their lives. They procreate with this partner and build a life, not being bothered by the insignificance of their minuscule lives in the vast frame of things. It’s intriguing how humans tend to care for one another in different ways. A stranger doesn’t care for another the way he cares for his own.

When Claire Novak looked at him, searching for her father, Castiel had a definite answer for her, yet he did not understand the sadness emitting from her soul. James Novak was chosen as his vessel, and the child did not find any significance in that. The love and sense of belonging exhibited by humans are deeply confounding. 

He had a new order to obey, _protect Dean Winchester_. Heaven considers it of utmost importance to keep the righteous man out of harm's way. Castiel did not ask why the task of retrieving his soul from hell was undertaken by other angels initially and this undemanding task had fallen upon his hands, because Castiel never questions his orders; he should not.

He senses the righteous man’s soul from miles away, the bright gleam of it spreading warmth through him as he pinpoints its location in Sioux Falls. Castiel flies, chasing the warmth and positions himself in the middle of a large ground covered with vehicles. 

“...feed you down there, boy? You’re gonna get pie stuck in your pipe.” Robert Singer’s voice says from inside the house.

“Bie me, ol mah.” An unfamiliar voice mumbles incoherently and Castiel frowns, the language not being a part of the thousands of languages he speaks. 

“Dean.” Sam Winchester’s voice says, tone full of disgust, “Don’t chew and talk. Were you raised in a barn?”

“I went to hell, Sammy.” Dean Winchester’s voice says, now clearer.

Castiel feels the spark of the soul, a warm glow spreading like ink in water. 

“Guess I’m never going to hear the end of- what’s wrong, Dean?” 

After a stretch of silence, Dean speaks, “Uh, nothing, I thought I felt something.”

“Felt what?” Robert asks.

“Dunno, like someone was watching us. It’s probably nothing.” 

Castiel stiffens. 

It is absolutely impossible and effectively unnatural for a human soul to sense the presence of an angelic being. Castiel is not sure how this particular soul is able to do that. Then again, beyond the bearing of being the righteous man, Dean Winchester’s soul is intensely capturing. When Castiel first laid eyes on it, the soul shimmered and swirled blithely, pale green and white curling around each other, making everything else in its surrounding insignificant. 

“I’ll check, just in case.” Sam’s steps echo through the cold evening and Castiel makes himself invisible. Sam Winchester’s soul is tainted, the purity underneath enveloped by demonic influence. Human souls, no matter how tainted, always yearn salvation. It’s the choices made by oneself that determines whether they achieve it or not. 

Sam shines the flashlight for a few seconds and then pulls something out of his pocket. A cell phone.

“It was Dean.” Sam says into it, “Dean was the reason it attacked hell.”

“Are you telling me Dean is back from the dead?” A female voice says from the other end.

“Yeah.” Sam says, “Yeah, he is.”

“Isn’t that great?” The voice says, “Now, are you gonna cry into his shoulder and spill everything or have you already done that?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Sam declares, “I gotta go, call me if you find anything.” He secures the phone back into his pocket and ducks back in. “Nothing, Dean.”

“Yeah, figured.” Dean says.

Secrets are another peculiar behavior exhibited by humans. They lie and come back to holy sanctuaries, begging for forgiveness. Yet, they never stop. The lies and mistrust are as strong as a part of humanity as is love and forgiveness. 

For a moment, Castiel slants towards the idea of appearing in front of Dean, the calling of his soul truly hard to ignore. Though heaven has no particular restraint against showing himself to Dean, Castiel thinks it’s unwise as the man might have a difficult time taking in all the facts. The fact that he alone is the one responsible for saving the world. 

Right then, Dean appears at the front door, an amber bottle clutched in his hand. Castiel’s grace struggles to escape his vessel and spread towards that warmth. He forces himself into control, dumbfounded by how his grace responds to a human soul. 

Dean wears his soul beautifully, his human self wrapped around it like a shield, fierce and unwavering. Dean stares straight ahead to where Castiel is standing, invisible, just as though he is aware of the presence. He blinks in Castiel’s direction for a few seconds and then shifts his focus back on to the bottle in his hand, taking a sip.

“Whatever you are, I...” Dean trails off, almost a whisper, “I need some fucking answers, please.”

Castiel’s grace wants to sprint forward and soothe the ache in Dean’s voice, but he resists in fear of overwhelming the man. Dean’s soul is troubled, every single memory from his time in hell etched into it, even when it shines so brightly. His father’s creations are marvelous, especially this particular one. 

The voice in his head breaks him out of his chain of thoughts.

_Castiel, return to heaven immediately. We have some urgent matters to look upon._

_At once._

Castiel starts his flight begrudgingly, the silhouette of the righteous man fading into distance.

******

The briefing lasts a long while as Zachariah allots them their duties and shares the desertions from various missions of theirs. Akobel, Esper and Bartholomew receive the task of seeking out Lilith’s whereabouts and Castiel is asked to keep eyes on the Winchesters, as expected.

"Sam Winchester is going down a dangerous path." Castiel says, "If we intervene right now, any future repercussions can be nullified."

Zachariah shakes his head in dismissal. "We do not interfere with fate, Castiel." He says, "Let the Winchesters do things as they choose. Your duty is to keep them safe and prevent them from doing something else stupid. We can't afford one more trip to hell."

"Hence, I suggest we find out what Sam is planning to do and stop him." Castiel says, eagerly, "For his own safety."

"Those are not the orders from father, Castiel."

More than one occasion, Castiel has wondered if their father will give him a sign to show him he is doing the right thing. Yet, he has never tried, hearing from the Almighty, a foreign idea in his mind. Castiel shifts uneasily, thinking a way to coax out something more from Zachariah. 

"Anything else?" 

"Is there any way I can assist in the search for Lilith?"

"About that," Zachariah slides off his chair, "We have stopped the search. Tracking her down is serious work and if we keep doing that, the seals will keep on breaking." He waves his hand in dismissal, "That will be all."

There are so many things wrong about all of it, but Castiel does not question his superiors, like any other good soldier. He nods curtly and walks out of the room, ready to head back to the Winchesters.

Dean's soul flares up the exact moment Castiel lands on the front porch of Singer household, still invisible. Dean is hunched over a grey wrecked vehicle, a set of tools sprawled by his side. His movements stutter as he glances around the empty ground, eyes sweeping over Castiel more than once. He tightens his grip on the wrench and goes back to work, glancing over his shoulder once or twice. Castiel waits and watches as the light of the day fades into the darkness of the evening, watching Dean move around and work.

Since humans require rest, Castiel decides it is safe for him to return to heaven as the chances of Dean being harmed in his sleep are slim to none. Just as he prepares to depart, something strong ties him down to the floor of Robert Singer’s threshold. Dean’s soul calls out to him, this time it is not as warm and serene as always, it is thrashing, pain and torment steering right into Castiel’s grace. He flies into Dean’s room, blade in hand, only to find Dean whimpering and still asleep on his bed. Castiel’s grace swells in his vessel, eager to reach out and soothe the pain away from the man in front of him. He situates himself at the edge of Dean’s bed and places a hand on the man’s forehead, watching as his breathing evens out, falling back into content slumber.

Perhaps, he was wrong. Pain, apparently, does not strictly have to be the kind that is physically afflicted. Dean is tormented by the memories of his time in hell, all those days of torturing and being tortured. Castiel is a little more sure that Dean Winchester is remarkable, as when he touched the man’s forehead, his nightmares were made up of visions of not the thirty years of being tortured, but the ten years and thousands of innocent blood that was spilled by his hand. Castiel watches the righteous man in awe, not being able to fathom how even in his subconscious, his soul aches from the pain he caused. Dean must be really proud of himself, to be such a noble soul even after all the hardships he has faced.

He waits for a little while longer, making sure Dean is not having any more nightmares and returns back to heaven, his fingertips tingling without reason.

******

“Three bodies in the past week,” Dean says, “All of them, throats ripped out. We gotta check this out."

“Of course, I will leave tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry, are you sidelining me?” Dean asks, “It’s a case, Sam. We hunt together, remember? Or have you got a new hunting buddy?”

Sam tenses, “It’s not like that, Dean.” He says, “It’s just, don’t you think it’s way too soon for you to be hunting again?”

“No it’s not.” Dean says, “I’m the eldest and that’s my verdict. Now shut your face.”

“You’re staying back, Dean.” Sam says, firmly. “I literally just got you back and I’m not sending you out there again. Give yourself some time, man. Take a vacation or something, please.” The tone of desperation in Sam's voice seems to be getting to Dean. “You need some time to pick yourself up.”

“I’m fine, Sammy.” Dean ushers.

Castiel leans against the fireplace in the living room, invisible, watching the conversation between the brothers unfold. 

Sam sighs, frustration etched into his features, “That’s just bullshit, Dean. You didn’t go to Disneyland, you went to hell. Just talk to me, or someone, because keeping all that crap in is going to kill you.”

Dean rolls his eyes impatiently. “I’m not getting a shrink, dude.” He says. “Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. I went to hell, hung out there for a while and came back, air con is crappy but the WiFi ain’t bad, yada yada yada.”

Castiel watches Dean carefully, trying to detect why Dean is refusing to talk to Sam. In his first week observing the Winchesters, he has realized that Dean uses humor as a coping mechanism and also he is deeply passionate about a dish called ‘pie’ and his vehicle that is currently parked outside the house. Still he is not completely familiar with human customs. But, talking about your problems can be helpful, that much he knows. Yet, somehow confusingly, Dean refuses to talk about his trauma and instead suppresses it. 

It is Sam’s turn to roll his eyes, “You are unbearable.”

“Love you too.” 

“Alright then, let’s leave in the morning.” Sam slaps his hands on his knees and stands up, “I’m gonna go grab something to eat. If you wanna talk, you know the drill.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Dean is alone in the house and Castiel should be trailing Sam right now, considering he has been conspiring outside of Dean's knowledge. But protecting the righteous man is his primary concern. Besides, something about Dean is pleasant and Castiel finds it hard to not stay by the man's side. He decides that is for good, since those were exactly his orders. 

Perhaps, it is time for him to introduce himself to Dean. In the previous briefing, Zachariah made it clear that Lilith was not far behind in breaking the next seal and Dean’s choices are going to matter. Waiting until Dean comes back from the hunting trip is not advisable. 

_Castiel, we require your presence here._

Castiel does not stall for another moment. He steps into the conference room, catching sight of nearly all the leaders of their respective garrison already present.

“There you are.” Zachariah addresses him, “We have a job for your boys.”

  
  


******

After an excruciatingly long briefing, Zachariah adjourned the meeting. When he returns back to Bobby Singer’s house, Dean does not hear him over the sound of the television. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumps, nearly knocking himself off his chair. When he turns around, he does so with a gun in his hand, pointed straight at Castiel’s chest.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaims, a little shaken. “Who the fuck are you?”

“The gun is not going to cause me any harm, Dean.” Castiel says, calmly. “Put it down so that we can have this conversation in a civil manner.” Dean seems to catch a hint of threat in Castiel’s voice, unaware of the fact that he would never hurt Dean. He should not.

“If that’s how I did things, I’d be six feet under by the time I was twelve.” Dean says, “Tell me who you are and how you got in, or would you like a bullet to the chest?”

“There were no sigils preventing me from entering.” Castiel says, “As for who I am, my name is Castiel.”

“Castiel.” Dean says, as though testing out how the three syllables feel on his tongue. “I would offer you a beer but I'm not a fan of demons."

"Then you need not worry, because," Castiel stares straight at him, “I’m an Angel of the lord.”

**********

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

### Chapter 3

_"All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain."_

  
  


There are two explanations to this.

One, he hit his head somewhere. Two, he’s gone apeshit crazy.

There is a third explanation bouncing around in Dean’s head like a ping pong ball on crack but he’ll die, _again_ , before he admits that.

“No, seriously, who are you?” Dean asks like the dumbass he is. The guy blinks at him like Dean's the one who broke into his house. A flicker of _something_ passes through those blue eyes and he nods sagely.

“Well, it would take me awhile to explain my origins. ‘You’ is a term humans used to refer to a corporeal form but I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent and cannot be pinpointed to a tangible form, but my vessel here helps me present myself among humans as a perceivable self.” 

“I’m having an aneurysm.” 

“I do not detect any inconsistency in your arterial walls.” The guy deadpans, and Dean can’t even tell if he’s joking.

“I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“You are not convinced.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean says, frustrated. “Just level with me here. You break into my house, scare the crap out of me and tell me you are an _Angel of the Lord_?”

“Precisely.” 

“Well, I don’t believe you.” Dean’s thankful no one’s home to listen to him talk like a dissatisfied housewife from a Soap. “Angels are not a thing. It’s just some crappy old bedtime story church moms tell their kids.”

“There is so much to this universe that humans are not aware of, Dean.” He says, “Just because you are unable to see it, does not mean its existence is invalid. Perhaps, this might help you.”

Thunder booms outside and lightning flashes against the living room window. None of that matters because there it is, right in front of his fucking eyes, _wings._ It's just a dark silhouette against Bobby's living room wall, only half extended considering the space limitation.

Dean swallows his tongue, spits it back out to mutter 'Woah' and then swallows it right back down.

"I hope you are convinced." The wings are gone as fast as it came and Dean lets out a sound of protest that only he hears and will take with him to his grave. "This is the maximum extent to which I can manifest in this astral plain."

"What the fuck?" Those are the first words out of his mouth once he regains the ability to speak. "This can't be real."

"Well, it is." The guy- _Castiel_ says, "Heaven has work for you, Dean."

_Well, that can wait._

"You pulled me out." He's not sure if it's a question or a statement, he gives Castiel the liberty to decide that.

"Indeed. I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Castiel replies. "Like I said, you are an important piece in the grand scheme of things." He says, as though he's talking about the weather. "All in good time, Dean. I should take my leave now."

"Woah there, buddy." Dean lowers his gun since it's as good as a twig against a grizzly bear, "You can't drop news like that and bolt on me." Dean swallows the lump stuck in his throat. "What do angels want with me?”

"You were resurrected for a reason, Dean. I am unable to relieve anything as of now." Castiel says, "God commanded your rebirth, for you have a great role to play."

Dean has heard a lot of weird shit in his equally weird life, but this one takes the cake. Hell, it takes the whole goddamn baked goods industry.

"God?" Dean asks, dumbly. Can't blame a guy for being a little out of it in a situation like the one he's in.

A slight twitch of Castiel's lips is all he gets in return. For a moment Dean finds himself stupidly staring at the guy- _Angel._

"I need you to give me something to work with, man." Dean says. "I've been batting a whoopin' zero here, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on."

"None of those words mean anything to me, Dean." Castiel deadpans. "I should return to heaven. Hopefully, when I return, I will have more answers for you." He says, and adds. "Look out for your brother."

Dean comes back to reality at that, "Why's that?"

Something dark crosses Castiel's face. _Angel of the Lord,_ he reminds himself.

"Nothing, forgive me." Castiel does not meet his eyes. "I should be leaving." 

There's a _flap flap_ and Castiel is gone.

_Fucking wings._

"This is cool." Dean paces back and forth the room. "Angels, heaven, _God._ " He sits down and then stands back up, "Weird but... _okay._ " He sits down again, "Not okay."

He picks up his phone and calls Sam, it goes to voicemail. He leaves a message. 

He tries Bobby. "This better be important, idjit." Bobby says. There is the crackling of fire in the background.

"What are you doing?"

"Burning a few vamps. Wanna grill some patties?" Bobby says, "Rufus says hi.”

"Bobby, just get down here fast, okay?" Dean says, sounding like a scared little kid.

"You okay, boy?"

"Just get down here quick." He hangs up.

  
  


******

“The host of heaven, _the angels._ ” Sam says. “I was right. Holy crap, this is huge.”

“Okay, calm down, dude.” Dean says, more for his benefit. “Not huge.”

“You kidding, Dean?” Bobby says. “‘Heaven has work for you’ sounds like a joke to you?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Dean snaps. “This is fucking insane. Angels, heaven, all that crap can’t be real. And what would heaven want so much from me that they send in a freaking angel to pull me out?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but consider this,” Sam muses, “Maybe, I mean, this is just a suggestion, but, just maybe,” Dean’s already halfway through rolling his eyes, “you’re a good guy and deserve to live longer?”

Dean fixes Sam with a glare. “Nah, that ain’t it.”

“For the love of God.” Bobby retreats back upstairs, a stack of reference books in his hand, “I’m too old for this shit.”

“Sure thing, Murtaugh.” Dean calls back. 

“What was _it_ like?” Sam asks, eyeing Dean curiously.

“Just a regular old guy, Sammy.” Dean says, and continues, knowing his brother won’t let him off the hook that easy. “About yea high,” He holds his hand little below his head, “straight outta his shift at the accounting firm.” Dean says, and then adds, “with wings.”

“Wings?” Sam stares at him like he’s crazy and then his mouth falls open, “You saw its wings.”

“Uh, kinda.”

“Can’t believe I missed it.” Sam says, reminding Dean of something Castiel said. _Look out for your brother._

“About that,” Dean takes a pull from his beer, “Where were you?”

“Oh, just went out.” Sam replies, short and precise.

“Just went out, huh?” Dean practically raised the kid, he’s not planning to buy the big bag of crap Sam’s selling. “You met some chick?”

Sam chokes on his beer, coughing and sputtering. 

“Oh my god, who’s she?”

“There’s no _she_ , Dean.” Sam scowls at him. “I’m going to hit the sack, we gotta run early.”

“Run all you want, Sammy.” Dean laughs when Sam flips him the bird.

******

Days go by without any visits from Castiel. They hunt and research, working around the house in relative silence. Bobby makes calls and assigns cases, Sam spends his free time drowning among stacks of lore, finding no heads or tails for everything that’s going on. Dean, meanwhile, does what he’s best at, hunting. Days are a blur of blood and guts from whatever monster they hunt while nights are blurry from drinking. Nightmares are a bitch, and Dean’s not four anymore. There’s no mommy he can run to when he’s scared. There’s no one.

After a weekend of tracking down a siren, Dean gets back home and dozes off almost immediately, the darkness filling the room as heavy as the weight behind his eyelids. 

_It’s dark as usual, heat from the fire crackling around him springing boils on Dean’s skin. He does not notice since it does not hurt. His focus is on the blade in his hands, grip tight as he lowers it to the bony arms on the table._

_It’s over as soon as it started, blood dripping down to Dean’s feet. Another tally mark to Dean Winchester’s daily chart._

_There is no one telling him what to do or which part to tear open. The tables move by, bringing a brand new soul for Dean to rip into shreds._

_This time, it’s Sam._

_Dean smiles, ‘Hey, Sammy.’ The cold end of the blade pressed to his brother’s throat, ‘You wanted to save me?’ A single slice, ‘I’m saved.’_

Dean wakes up with a startle, sweat pooling in the column of his neck. The clock on the nightstand says fifteen minutes to three. He climbs out of his bed, shaking the remnants of his nightmare. Dean wonders what triggered this one. Angels are supposed to drive away the crazy, not tag along new ones.

The _flap flap_ almost makes his heart leap out of his chest.

"Hello, Dean." Blue eyes, barely visible in the dark, are mere inches away from Dean's face.

"Fuck," Dean whispers, his heart doing a three-sixty in his chest. "Um, hey." It's the middle of the night, Dean is shirtless and there's an Angel of the Lord in his room. That's just how his life is, these days. He places both his hands on the angel's shoulder and gently pushes him a step back. "There."

"You are alright." Castiel states, confused. "I sensed your distress."

"Uh, I'm fine." Dean says, pulling on a faded grey t-shirt, "You came down here for that?"

"Yes." Castiel stares at him like it's a blinking contest, "You were in distress and I had to help."

"I'm fine, Castiel." Their breathing is the only thing echoing in the darkness and Dean's legs feel like they're glued to the floor. "You can go do your...whatever is that you do." A thought crosses his mind, "Do you sleep? You don't, do you?"

"I do not require sleep, though if I need to, I can fall asleep. Especially since I'm in a human vessel." Castiel gives him the first lesson in Angel 101.

Dean shudders an exhale, "Uh, why me?" He asks. The question is abrupt and as vague as it can get, but Dean can't bother with words right now.

Castiel squints at him like a confused kitten, firm and way too adorable. Dean clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I mean, why did the angels bother pulling me out of hell?" Dean asks, "Me out of all people, even after everything I…" The tightness in his throat keeps him from spilling his guts out at the thought.

"Why not you?" Castiel counters. "What you did in hell was wrong, but that does not make you abominable. You did everything in your power to hold off torturing those souls. Everybody has a breaking point, Dean. You held off longer than yours."

"I didn't want to…" The words spill out of his mouth like a feverish whisper, "I didn't wanna stop, not until you came. I tore open those people like a machine…it didn't even bother me."

“You don’t need to take blame for that, Dean.”

Dean laughs mirthlessly, “You gotta be kidding me, man.” His fingernails dig into his palm, “I fucked up, royally. I don’t know what you see in me but I’m a disaster. You keep talking about how heaven has plans for me and how I’m valuable, but that doesn’t help.” His throat feels like lead but he doesn’t stop. “All that talk makes it look like I’m something, but ‘m just a giant fuck up. It’s pathetic.”

“Dean.”

Oh, he’s not even started. “This whole hell shindig was just another metal rod to my already busted up tail light of a life, man. I’m broken and no matter how hard you try to justify, it doesn’t magically fix squat.”

“You are so much more than you think you are.” Castiel intones.

“Right,” Dean scoffs. Even the ringing of his own blood in his ears is louder than ever, all the air in the room suddenly not enough for his lungs. “Just leave, Castiel.”

Castiel doesn’t even say goodbye before he leaves. It’s better off that way. 

He spends the rest of his night with a bottle of whiskey, staring at the clock on the nightstand as the green digits flick over to seven in the morning. 

“You look like crap.” Sam comments as he pads downstairs.

Dean ignores him, murmuring profanity into his coffee mug. “Bobby?”

“He’s staying back to research on the angel, in case it shows up again.” Sam says. “We gotta be prepared, Dean. I mean, it’s not like we have an exorcism tucked in our sleeve-”

“Don’t sweat, Sammy. I know you just need him here to babysit me.” Dean says, annoyed. "And If it makes you feel better, Castiel may not come back." 

“What?” Sam’s head snaps up.

“Uh, he showed up last night and I was kind of a dick.” Dean admits, “I asked him to leave.”

“Doesn’t mean they just called quits on the entire thing, Dean.” Sam says, “It may return or send some other angel.”

Dean’s takes another sip from his coffee, “That’s refreshing.”

“It’s okay, Dean. We will figure this out.” Sam claps him on the shoulder, “I probably won’t be back until the weekend’s over _._ If something comes up, call me.”

“God, no.” Dean grumbles, “Just stay wherever the fuck you are. You drive me insane.”

Sam snorts, “I try.”

Dean spends his day helping Bobby out with research and spending half of the time on the couch, filling his head with all the Back to the Future movies.

“How you holding up, Dean?” Bobby asks, handing him a beer.

“Not you too, Bobby.” Dean mutters.

“I know you don’t wanna weep onto my shoulder or anything and I ain’t gonna push you, boy.” Bobby says, “You gotta do it on your own terms.”

“Look at you going all Freud on me.” Dean grins, “Guess you’ve gone soft, old man.”

“Happens when you’re raising a bunch of idjits.” Bobby grumbles.

“What do you think this whole angel shebang is about, Bobby?”

“I got nothing, kid.” Bobby shrugs, “Whatever it is, it’s huge and I’m not liking it, that much I can tell you.”

“Castiel doesn’t seem so bad.” Dean mutters in a hushed tone.

Bobby cocks a brow at him, “Thought you kicked him to the curb.”

“Yeah, and if he comes marching down with his army of angels, I can be happy I at least warned you.”

“You gotta stop pushing people away, Dean.” Bobby presses his lips into the thin line, “I know it’s better if you kick them out before they leave but that ain’t gonna be helpful when people really wanna stay.”

“I’m trying to drive away a potential threat, Bobby.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Dean.” Bobby rolls his eyes, “I know how you get all itchy when someone tries to help you.”

“I don’t…” Dean swallows, “I don’t need this crap right now.” He storms off into his room like a pesky teenager, slamming the door behind him. 

Bobby doesn’t call his name behind him and Dean thinks it’s fair. He’s a pile of pathetic mess better off left to rot in the corner.

  
  


******

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm a tad bit late, so sorry for that. Got caught up in some work. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 4

_ "God may judge you but his sins outnumber your own." _

  
  


“We’ve been over this, Castiel. Your duty is to keep the Winchesters alive and oblivious, for now.” Zachariah says, “I will not be relieving you of the duty.”

“Dean does not wish for my presence there.” Castiel counters.

“And how is that their choice?” Zachariah asks. “You’re not there to make friends, Castiel. You obey your orders and keep the Winchesters in your favor.”

“I will.” Castiel nods curtly. He knows Zachariah is right, yet, he can’t erase Dean’s words from his mind or the way his soul withdrew itself from Castiel’s grace, a shocking contrast to every other time it leapt towards him. “Is there any information on the seals?”

“We are getting close.” Zachariah says, “We have our best teams on the job.”

“You could place a team on tracking Lilith down.” Castiel spits out without thinking.

“I give the orders, Seraph.” Zachariah hisses, “You do your job, don’t go around questioning heaven’s efficiency.”

Castiel swallows thickly, eyes cast to the floor. “Certainly. My apologies.” He nods curtly and exits the room.

“Brother.” 

Castiel turns around, spotting Haniel waiting around the corner. “I wish to speak to you in private.”

He cuts out of the corridor into the clearing behind the humans’ heavens. “Go on.”

“Do you have any information regarding the angels delegated for finding the next seal to be broken?” Haniel asks.

Castiel narrows his eyes, “I do not. What is the matter?”

“Majority of the garrisons are unaware of this very information and there are a few suspicions circling around.”

“Regarding what?”

“While you are on Earth, Zachariah seems to be working with Uriel on something confidential.” Haniel says. “None of us are assigned any worthwhile duties, Castiel. Zachariah and Uriel are working parallely on something else.”

“Who else have you presented this suspicion towards?”

“A few trusted soldiers of my garrison. Only enough of them that the news does not reach Camael’s ears.”

“Make sure it remains that way. You do not want to risk aggravating your garrison leader.”

“So, it shall be.” Haniel nods. “We trust you, Castiel. You have always been true to the cause and if anyone can retrieve information from Zachariah, it is you.”

“I too have orders to follow just like anyone else, brother.” Castiel recalls. “I will try to find out as much as I can. Meanwhile, keep this conversation to yourself.” He says, the fear of being reprimanded pulling him back.

“Of course.” Haniel nods sagely. “I will be taking my leave now. Farewell, brother.”

****** 

Dean doesn’t take notice of his presence when he lands in his room which confuses Castiel. The reason becomes clear when he sees Dean leaning against the foot of his bed, a bottle of amber liquid dangling loosely from his grip.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, tone as neutral as possible.

“Fuck.” Dean’s grip on the bottle slips as his eyes snap up, focusing strenuously on Castiel. “You’re back.”

“You’re intoxicated.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Not even close, angel.” He staggers backwards as he attempts to steady himself. Castiel almost surges forward to help but stops himself at the last second.

“I’m aware you don’t need my presence here.” Castiel says, “But I have a duty to fulfill.”

“Dammit, Cas. I didn’t…” He trails off, “You know what, never mind. You got duties.” He climbs into his bed, eyes glassy as he takes another long sip from his bottle of alcohol. “Why even bother…” He murmurs as though he’s speaking to himself.

“I do have duties, Dean.” Castiel says. “That doesn’t mean I do not care for your well being.”

Dean laughs. His voice is void of any emotion when he speaks, “Like I said, I’m not your mess to clean up.”

“You are nothing close to a mess, Dean.” Castiel responds, “Even if you were, I would not stop wanting you to be content.”

“Not how it works, idiot.” Dean mutters, pulling his knees to his chest. There is a stretch of silence before Dean speaks again, “I’m so tired, Cas.” His voice breaks, green eyes struggling to blink tears back. 

For the first time since the beginning of creation, Castiel feels. He does not know what it is that makes Dean Winchester have a grip on him unlike any other creation of his father's. It’s equally liberating and terrifying, the idea of not being able to resolve what he is feeling.

“I can’t fathom what you have been through, Dean.” Castiel says, lowering himself on the bed next to Dean, shuffling closer to the hunter. “Everything you endured has nothing to do with who you are. Never in a million years would I consider you anything other than good. I wish I could help you ease the pain." He meets Dean’s eyes. "You did not deserve all this suffering, Dean."

Something unreadable flickers behind Dean’s eyes, and Castiel barely gets any time to decipher the emotion as he’s suddenly met with an armful of Dean, clutching tightly against the back of his trench coat. Castiel remembers to wrap his arm around Dean, words too much and not enough at the same time to ease away all the pain from the hunter’s life. 

“Whatever.” Dean retreats and Castiel suppresses the need to pull him back. 

“You should get some sleep.” Dean makes a sound of protest when Castiel pries away the bottle of alcohol from his hands, but otherwise doesn’t put up much of a fight as Castiel pulls a blanket over him, adjusting the pillows into a more comfortable position. 

“You’re nice, Cas.” Dean mutters, half engrossed in sleep. 

By the time Castiel returns to heaven, Dean is sound asleep. Even when his mind churns with the thought of being stripped away from all the things he so dearly believed were right, Castiel knows one thing for sure. If it’s for Dean, it has to be worth it. 

******

Castiel watches the squirrel dig the hole with unwavering determination, digging even as it’s arms get tired. For the rodent, survival is what matters the most. So it digs the hole, deeper and deeper, building a safe space once the weather turns against its favor. Castiel often comes to the forest of Belarus to watch the world live and breathe around him, without the contamination from the outer world. It’s calm and familiar, unlike everything else happening in his life. He needs to return to the Winchesters soon, as it is time for them to learn about their real part in the fate of this universe.

Castiel kneels next to the squirrel, helping it to move the dirt out of the way. It pulls back but does not run away. Castiel can sympathize with the feeling, wanting to run away but an unknown belief that he has a reason to stay holding him back.

Once the squirrel climbs back to its tree, satisfied with it’s ploughing, Castiel sits back, leaning against the Aspen, the damp soil cold under his hands.

“For the first time in my life, I’m unsure of my actions.” He says to the sky. “Everything seems forged. I am aware of the fact that I should be following what I’m asked to follow, yet for the first time, my mind wavers from the purpose I was put here for. Father, I’m unsure of what to do. Perhaps this is what you have planned for this planet or everything you never wished upon them, I cannot tell. 

“You wanted us to protect humanity, be their shepherds and love what they love. Now my shoulders are burdened with the weight of standing helpless as humanity is edging towards the precipice of destruction. If things happen as I fear, I doubt I could stand watching your creation fade into nothingness.” The blue sky does not have any answers for him. “Show me what is right, Father.”

Castiel blinks back into reality when the voice echoes in his head.

_ Are you there, Castiel? _

He waits, surprised at the abrupt awakening of his vessel's true host. 

"Yes, Jimmy."

_ I want a favor from you, Castiel. _

Castiel stiffens, "Your family was safe the previous time I checked."

_ That's great. But, that's not what I meant.  _ Jimmy pauses.  _ I need you to set me free, Castiel. _

"Are you asking me to…" He trails off, the weight of Jimmy’s words clinging to his chest.

_ Set my soul free, Castiel. I'm drowning in here. It's like I'm being dragged through the sun, over and over again. _

Castiel hesitates, "You do not deserve to have your life come to an abrupt end."

_ What is the alternative?  _ Jimmy asks.  _ I can't suffer eternally for some vague chance of you making it out alive. And even if you did, you wouldn't leave this vessel. _

"If my duties on Earth are complete-"

_ I'm in your head as much as you're in mine, Castiel.  _ Jimmy interrupts him.  _ You wouldn't return to heaven. Not with what you have here. _

"I…" Castiel falters, facing a shortage of words. The choices are being made on its own.

_ Please, Castiel. I deserve this. _

Castiel draws out an exhale, "Yes, of course." 

_ But before that, I have a few goodbyes to say. _

******

After a strenuous and emotionally bewildering set of goodbyes, Castiel returns from the Novak household, his wings taking him down the familiar path. He lands close to Dean, eliciting a wave of elation from his soul. Dean clears his throat and takes a step back.

Sam too jumps a little, his hands travelling to his gun involuntarily. 

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel keeps his tone as calm as possible. Bobby Singer appears at the bottom of the staircase.

“What in the…”

“Hello, Robert.” Castiel turns back to Dean. “You look better.”

Dean catches his eyes, “Sam, Bobby, meet Castiel.” 

Sam’s grip on his gun falters. 

“It’s really…” Sam stares at him, mouth agape. “Uh, so, thanks for saving my brother.” He stammers with his words. “What does heaven want with Dean?”

“Heaven’s plans are even superior to the extent of my knowledge.” Castiel replies, truthfully. “All I can let you know is heaven has plans for Dean and he is to be protected, hence, I am here.”

“For the love of God,” Dean mutters, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I am not sure that is the term, Dean. You are an adult.” Castiel says, “Besides, I merely follow orders.”

“See, Castiel, that’s something I don’t get.” Dean says, “You just drag your ass down here without knowing what your job is, just because your boss told you to?”

“My job is keeping you safe, Dean.” Castiel says calmly. “And I have a case for you.”

“Oh, and what is that now?” 

“Two bodies found in Nebraska, a certain symbol carved into their chest.” Castiel says, “Heaven asks for you to resolve the case.”

Before Dean manages to interrupt, Sam speaks, “Alright, that sounds like us.”

Dean glares at Sam, some kind of understanding passing between them. 

Finally, Dean sighs, “Alright then, it’s a four hour drive.”

“Great, let me grab my duffel.”

Dean glances at Bobby and back at Castiel, “Can I talk to you, in private?” He walks out of the room and into the kitchen. Castiel follows.

Castiel senses a flicker of guilt in Dean’s eyes, “Is everything okay, Dean?” 

“Yeah, Castiel, It’s just,” He licks his lips, and Castiel’s eyes trace the movement involuntarily. “I was being a dick okay?”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean turns away from him, “I was acting like a total asshole yesterday, and probably the day before that, I don’t know.” He says, “I don’t remember much from yesterday night but I remember you were there. You were being all nice, man.”

Castiel tilts his head, confused, “Was I not supposed to?”

“No, Cas.” Dean is now facing him, “Not like this. Not when you act like you give a rat’s ass about me and then eventually just get up and leave.”

“You wanted me to stay?”

“That’s the problem, Cas.” Dean takes a step forward, the distance between them growing narrower, “You can’t stay. You won’t.”

Castiel understands some part of it but a good portion is still unclear, “You think I am going to gain your trust and then betray you.”

Dean opens his mouth but no words come out. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “How could I not?”

“I don’t blame you, Dean.” Castiel takes a step forward, “The feeling pertains to your deep-rooted abandonment issues.”

Dean stares at him blankly, “Shut up or I will kick your ass.” Castiel notices they are standing barely a feet apart. He doesn’t move because Dean has not asked him to. “Fuck, I wanted to apologize and I’m doing the exact opposite.”

“So, are you going to apologize or do I need to anticipate another stream of yelling?”

“Smartass.” Dean laughs, walking past him out of the kitchen, only to stop at the threshold, “I’m sorry, or whatever. Now we are even.”

Castiel smiles, “I was not keeping score.” 

Sam is already waiting with his supplies, skimming over his laptop. Castiel decides he is not fond of that device.

“If you are ready, I can take you to Nebraska.” Castiel suggests.

“Take us?” Dean asks, "As in fly us there?" Castiel smiles at the awe in his voice.

"Our stuff is in the impala." Sam says. 

Castiel beckons them closer with a hand on each of their shoulders, "That can be arranged."

******


	6. Chapter 6

### Chapter 5

_ "There are no bargains between man and God, for he has nothing left to give." _

  
  


Dean’s legs find the ground with a soft  _ thud,  _ attempting to steady himself . He opens his eyes, blinking as the Impala manifests next to him.

“What the…” He trails off, his mind playing  _ holy fucking shit  _ in a loop. Flying felt like dropping down a roller coaster to tartarus, the same pull in his chest, only magnified and fast. “Where are we?”

“Fillmore.” Sam says, pointing at a sign on the side of the road.

"Okay, alright." Dean chokes out, "Now what?"

"I'm not very sure of your hunting process," Castiel says, "but I will be happy to assist."

"Don't you have something better to do?" Dean asks, and right then gets elbowed by Sam, "I mean, with all due respect and all that."

"My orders are to keep you safe, Dean." He says, "Hunting can be dangerous, hence I must accompany you." Castiel stares at him, his blue eyes burning holes through Dean's skin. Dean squirms under the scrutiny, looking anywhere but at the angel.

“What’s in it for angels, anyway?” He asks. “Didn’t know you cared about hunting.”

“This case is crucial, Dean.” Castiel says, “I will explain everything. Right now, I need you to trust me. Please.”

Dean is probably going to regret what he says next, “Alright. This better work out well.” He meets Castiel’s eyes and sure enough there’s that  _ look,  _ like Dean's consent means jack shit.

Next to them, Sam clears his throat, "I will go hit the morgue, you guys ask around." He says, and bows awkwardly, shuffling on his feet. Dean snorts, watching Castiel staring at his brother in confusion.

"Have I done something to cause him discomfort?" Castiel asks, as Sam pulls out of the driveway. The guy looks genuinely concerned and Dean tries hard to fight a snicker. 

"He's just weird, man." Dean pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about him, guy's fangirling over you."

Castiel gives him that whole head tilt and squint thing. 

Dean chuckles, "Sammy's always been the one believing in the bigger power and things like that. You know, God, heaven, all that cr-  _ stuff. _ " 

"And you never believed?" Castiel asks.

Dean’s digging the hole deeper and deeper for himself. He’ll probably need it soon.

“My mom used to tell me how angels used to watch over me.” He says, trying to pull words out of the soup that is his brain. “But then, I lost her and my whole world went rolling into a pit. I had a white picket fence life and hopes and dreams, at least what a four year old could dream, then that rug was pulled right from underneath my feet. That kinda stuff makes a guy want to not believe anymore.” He decides it’s time to stop blabbering, “Fuck, didn’t mean to throw that on you.”

When the silence gets too suffocating, he meets Castiel’s eyes, only to be rewarded with a look that makes Dean want to curl into a ball on the floor. Castiel places his hand on his shoulder, mimicking the way Dean patted him earlier. “You are a strong man, Dean. There is so much about you that astonishes me. I see why you were chosen.” He says, the words doing nothing to soothe the anxiety in Dean’s gut. The way Castiel is looking at Dean, like there is something worth seeing, is not helping either.

Dean clears his throat, “We should hit the cafe, someone there should know something,” He starts walking, the _swoosh_ of Castiel’s trench coat right behind him, “Besides, I’m starving.”

******

“Hey, buddy,” Dean taps on Castiel’s menu lightly, “order whatever you want.”

“I don’t eat, Dean.” Cas says, but doesn’t stop studying the contents of the menu intently.

“Of course,” Dean takes the last bite off his burger, “That makes sense.”

“Isn’t it quite inconvenient to obtain these waffles from Belgium?” Cas asks, out of the blue.

Dean snorts loud enough that the guy sitting next to him clutches his head in his hands and glares. Dean grins at him apologetically. He’s been there. 

“It’s just a name, dude.” Dean says, “Just like how they don’t go to France to get french toast.”

“Oh, I understand.” Cas says, “Perhaps, the recipes originated in the respective countries.”

Dean’s sitting at a cafe, talking about the origins of breakfast food to an angel of the Lord. His life is like a bizzaro sitcom. 

“Hey, Cas,” He nudges him slightly, “This case, does it have something to do with why you pulled me out of hell?”

“I thought we had an agreement, Dean.” Cas shuts the menu, looking up at him. Dean is suddenly reminded of how blue those eyes are.

“Okay, sorry.” Dean mutters. “It’s just, one day I’m dead and buried and next I have angels for personal security.”

“If you are attempting to annoy me into leaving, it’s not working.”

Dean mocks fake offense, “Call me annoying one more time and I’m leaving you here.” 

“You can try.” Castiel goes back to memorizing the contents of the menu.

“Anything else I could get you?” The waitress - Dean peeks at her name card - Cleo asks, and on any other day, Dean would have thrown in a smirk, trying to charm her pants off. Today’s not that day.

When Castiel doesn’t acknowledge her, Dean sighs, “He’s on a water diet.” He says, pulling out his badge, “I’m Agent Berkley, this is my partner Agent Cassidy.” Castiel finally takes his eyes off the menu and looks up at Dean. Dean telepathically tells him to play along, hoping the guy can read minds. “We just wanted to ask a few questions about the two murders, you might have heard. Did you know any of the vics?”

“They weren’t regulars.” She says, “Both of them were happily married, suburban dream lives, shopped at whole foods, you know the deal.” She smiles sadly, “It’s really tragic.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know much about them.” She replies, “Though there’s a rumor that they worship the devil or something like that. Just a load of crap.”

Next to him, Castiel straightens up. “Actually, dev-” 

“Thank you.” Dean says, handing her a few bills. “Anyways, we should head out.” He’s almost at the door when he realizes Castiel is still talking to the waitress.

“...you work for such long hours, yet you are unsatisfied with your job.” He hears Castiel say. 

“That’s corporate America, man.” Dean gestures at the door, “Come on, we gotta go.” He winks at the waitress and stalks off before Castiel starts investigating the tragic lives of minimum wage essential workers.

"Rule one, Castiel," Dean says, "Don't chat up someone more than necessary unless you're trying to hook up with them."

"What?" Castiel squints at him.

"You said you're not that familiar with how hunting works, thought I'd teach you some stuff…" He rubs the back of his neck, "...if you wanna."

Castiel seems to be considering that for a second, "Okay, I would like that." He says, "First rule would be not to talk more than necessary unless you would like to get sexually intimate with them."

Dean laughs out loud, "Yeah, knew you'd be a quick learner." 

The impala rounds the corner as they walk outside. 

Beside him, Castiel stiffens. “I have to go.” He says, “My superiors require me. I will return soon.” It’s all programmed and spelled out. Before Dean gets to bust out who, where, why or any of the interrogative words, there’s a  _ flap flap  _ and he’s gone.

“What was that about?” Sam asks.

“The hell if I know. Guy’s all dorky and weird." He says, “Got something?" 

"Lets hit the motel, this one will take some time." Sam throws him the keys.

******

“What was that, back at Bobby’s?” Dean asks, as they pull into the parking lot of Pecan Valley Inn.

“What was what?”

“When you were tripping over your feet in front of Castiel?” Dean mutters, “You were out of the door before I could even catch up with what’s going on.”

“Your slow brain activity is not my problem.” Sam snorts, “Dude, it's just, I was thinking-

“You were?”

“-if we want to know what they really want, it’s better not to piss off the one guy who’s got answers.” Sam says, “Let’s just work this case out if that’s what the angels need. Gain their trust so they will loosen up a little.”

“Sammy, you evil wench.” Dean laughs when Sam flips him off, “If this bites us in the ass, trust me, next time you get kidnapped, I'll just leave you there.”

Sam spends enough time on his laptop for Dean to finish a whole episode of  _ Dos Mujeres, un Camino _ .

“These symbols track down to a kind of sacrificial ritual, human mostly, practiced back in the 1400s.” Sam says, “I cross referenced it with some witchcraft sources and found mentions of the ritual in Malleus Malificarum.”

“Gesundheit.” 

“It’s a manifesto written by Kramer, Dean. Witches Hammer.” Sam says, “It’s like the thesaurus of witchcraft history before the Early Renaissance.”

“So, basic gist, witches.” Dean says.

“Yeah,” Sam pulls up some photographs of the symbols carved on the vics' bodies. “It’s a sacrificial ritual used mostly as a form of revenge against people who massacred witches, claiming their souls to be damned to hell.”

“Why now? Who’s hunting witches.” 

“No one, apparently.” Sam says, “Because, there is another reason this ritual is performed for.” He pulls up a tab from his laptop and reads,  _ “Caused a certain unusual perversity to grow up in the land of the Lord - a heresy, I say, of Sorceresses, since it is to be designated by the particular gender of which he is known to have power _ .”

“He?” Dean sits up on his chair, “He who?”

“Lucifer.” Castiel appears right on cue, accompanied by a gust of wind. 

“What?” Dean’s not sure who asked the question because his voice sure is stuck in his throat.

“Lucifer Morningstar, the Dark Prince of Hell.” Castiel says, “Henrich Kramer’s observations were right, though his justification was that women were defective in all powers, both body and soul and hence they practiced witchcraft channeling evil, which was just his misogynistic views. Nonetheless, the ritualistic depictions are accurate.” He sits down at the edge of Dean’s bed, “The sacrifice will be completed with the killing of the third victim tomorrow before sundown, and you must stop it.”

The room falls completely silent for a really long while as Dean fumbles to find words. Judging from the look on Sam’s face, he isn’t far either.

“Lucifer? As in,  _ the devil _ ?” Dean finally chokes out.

Castiel nods.

“I didn’t see him in hell…” 

“That is because Lucifer was banished by my father and locked up in a cage aeons ago, I’m sure you are familiar with that part of the story.” Dean notices a hint of pride in Castiel’s voice, the same tone Dean used to talk about John in. It sends a shudder through him.

“Uh, yeah.” Sam says, “So, why are these witches sacrificing people to the devil?”

Castiel stands, a haunting expression casting a shadow on his soft features, “It is time for you to know the whole story.” 

  
  


******

  
  


“So,” Dean says, long after Castiel has finished talking, “there’s an apocalypse right around the corner.” 

“Yes, and Lilith is trying to break sixty six out of the six hundred seals.” He says, “And this sacrifice is one of them, hence, you need to stop the witches before it's too late.”

“Sixty six of them, so we got some time right?” Dean asks, hoping the answer is not ‘no’.

“No”, Castiel doesn’t hesitate a minute, “If this seal breaks, the leftover sixty four seals can be anything. Lilith is wicked, we will not be able to catch up with her.”

“Sixty five,” Dean corrects him, “This is the first one, right?” The silence in the room is unnerving. “Right, Castiel?”

“No.” Dean hates that word. “The first seal was already broken, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean gets off his chair, closing the distance between him and the angel, “And when was this? Why weren't we informed the party had already started?”

This time, Castiel hesitates a moment, “You broke the first seal, Dean.”

The words fall like an anvil to his head. 

“Me?" Dean doesn't hide the surprise in his voice that well. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

“The first seal broke the moment the righteous man shed blood in Hell.” Castiel says. “I’m sorry, Dean…”

“Oh.” Dean licks his lips, the world all hazy around him. Suddenly, there’s not enough air in the room. Every inch of panic from hell floods back to him. "I started the apocalypse?" 

“Not yet, Dean.” Castiel says, with the hand on his shoulder, "You can stop this. We can.”

Dean shrugs off his grip, “I can’t paint over my own mess. If I weren’t so stupid...so weak…” Dean feels like his head is about to explode, blood rushing loud in his ears. 

“Weak?” Castiel stares at him, expression a mixture of confusion and surprise, “You held on for thirty years, Dean. You suffered all that while and that shows strength. You cannot blame yourself for this."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shouts, "You got any idea about the kind of crap I did back there?"

"In fact, I do." 

"This is stupid. Sammy, you wanna weigh in on this?” As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, Dean freezes.

"I would," Sam fixes him with a stare, "if one of you would just tell me what the fuck happened in hell. You won't talk for the life of you and I can't ask- you know what? Forget it, let’s split, talk to the families of the vics, there’s gotta be some common link.” Sam says, "Find these witches and stop them, we can finish this later."

“Alright.” Dean tucks his gun into his coat pocket, “Castiel, are you coming along?” Dean hesitantly meets his eyes. He can’t do this alone.

Castiel nods, “Of course, Dean.”

Sam takes the Impala and Castiel flies them to the Steller’s. Dean  _ does not  _ topple this time when they land. 

“Hey, Cas…” Dean grabs him by the sleeve at the threshold of the Steller's house, “Uh, you told me to look out for Sammy, what was that about?” 

Cas sighs, looking down at Dean’s grip on his sleeve. Dean lets go. “I’m not permitted to meddle with yours or your brother’s choices, Dean.” He says, “All I’m asked for is to help you and keep you safe. And time may come when you need my help, I will be here, if the host permits.” 

“Cas,” Dean pointedly ignores the quiver in his voice, “what’s going on, man? This...this is just too crazy.”

“I understand it can be overwhelming, Dean.” Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his palm solid and warm against Dean, "It's going to be alright, I assure you."

"It doesn't matter," Dean sucks in a shaky breath, "I messed up, big time. People are dying because of me."

"You are only human, Dean. You didn't know the consequences of your choices. I don't understand how you can be angry at yourself for having to do what you had to." The angel's gaze doesn't waver as he squeezes Dean's shoulder once, "Believe me, I will not let anything happen to you, or Sam.”

Dean laughs dryly, “Too soon to make promises like that, buddy.”

As they walk into the house, Dean tucks away the distress on Castiel’s face as a matter for some other time. 

  
  


******

  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters so far were from a single POV. From now on, it's going to be split POVs. Just a heads up. Hope y'all enjoy.

### Chapter 6

_"You kneel before this throne, unaware it was born of lies."_

Castiel watches as Dean interrogates Theodore Steller’s widow, carefully observing the way Dean speaks to her with gentle words and a kind expression. Dean is getting impatient, Castiel realizes, from the way he taps his finger rhythmically against his knees. 

“Ted was working late that night,” Mrs. Steller says, wiping her face on a handkerchief, “We were supposed to go out for dinner, but he cancelled that last minute…” Tears stream down her face.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am.” Dean tells her, “If you could give us contact details of his employees, maybe a secretary or something, that would be helpful.”

She hands him the details and Dean reassures her a few more times before glancing back at Castiel, gesturing for him to follow. When they come back to the motel, Sam is already there, conversing with someone on the phone.

“...that’s exa- oh hey, you’re back.” Sam hangs up that call. “Find anything?”

“Guy had a secretary, one Zoe Duncan.” Dean says, “Last person to see him before he, you know. Who’s on the call?”

“Telemarketer. Did you say Zoe Duncan?” Sam asks, “Well, the Ericksons got a sitter, Ester Duncan.”

“Bingo.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam focuses his gaze on him, “If we stop this seal from breaking, she could just move on to any other seal, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel eyes Sam curiously, “That is why I mentioned that we need to be a few steps ahead of her.”

“Right,” Sam rubs a hand across his face, “So what if we find Lilith and kill her before she gets to break any more of the seals?”

Sam’s argument seems valid. Stopping Lilith is the most efficient way of stopping the apocalypse, considering how any seal could be broken any moment. 

“Listen Sammy, I know that bitch is your arch nemesis or whatever, but we don’t know what she’s been up to since her puppies dragged me to hell.” Dean says, “It’s suicide, walking right into her open mouth.”

“Dean is right.” Sam scowls at him, but Castiel presses on, “We know nothing about Lilith’s plans, and she could be anywhere. Besides, my orders are to help you prevent the breaking of seals, not finding Lilith.”

“Guys, killing her would put an end to all of this.” Sam counters. 

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we need some intel to start with.” Dean says, “We can first stop this seal from breaking and then maybe think about finding Lilith,” He adds, “Maybe.”

“I cannot allow that.” Castiel declares. “My superiors will not have you diverting from the initial plan.” His primary duty is to keep the Winchesters safe and if they decide finding Lilith is their choice then Castiel cannot intervene either. He has to steer them back to the original mission. Just hours before, he was summoned to heaven to witness three isolated vessels of his angel kin being disposed off from their mission to track down the next seal. He had no other alternative than to do as he was asked to.

“Screw the plan, Cas.” Dean says, eliciting an amused look from Sam. “You know if killing Lilith is the next best thing, we will go ahead with that, don’t you?”

“I have found you to be very adamant.” Castiel replies.

“That’s right.” Dean says, “Now if your bosses have a problem, tell them to go cry over it. You got your own choice, Cas.” He does not. Castiel admires Dean’s courage — his surety about his choices and the way he acts only according to his own jurisdiction. Castiel, on the other hand, has to follow orders. Choices are not a part of his role in serving humanity. “You don’t need to kiss their asses if you don’t want to. Do what is right, not what others think is.”

“You have to know I cannot do that.” Castiel says, his shoulders dropping. He senses the way Dean’s soul flares up, reaching out to him. Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, “I have a mission, Dean. I have orders to follow and tasks to accomplish. That is the purpose of my life.”

“That’s stupid, Cas.” Dean takes a step closer, “You don’t need to do squat if you don’t want to. What are they gonna do, kick you out of the baseball team?”

“Dean.” Sam’s tone is full of warning, protecting his brother being his primary concern. Humans never stop being intriguing. 

“Cas, if you plan on helping us, you gotta know one thing,” Dean says, “we don’t follow orders, we do what is right to us. Sure, you guys might be the angels, but all this while, when all of our lives went to crap, you lot didn’t bother. Now if you need our help, you gotta follow our lead.” 

Castiel wants to touch Dean, to feel that soul against his grace. The control Dean has over him is unreal. When he looks up, Dean’s expression is nothing short of fury and desperation,

“The choice is always yours, Dean.” Dean’s features soften at that, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Listen, buddy,” Dean’s tone is sympathetic when he speaks, “I know you have strings pulling you from all four sides but you can’t swing _us_ around like puppets just because you can.” He says, “When push comes to shove, you gotta pick a side, Cas.”

“What you’re asking of me is immense, Dean.” Castiel says, “One thing I can promise you, if it comes to the worst of scenarios, I will do the right thing, no matter whose side I am on.”

“Perfect.” Dean says, his shoulders relaxing. “Now let's go gank Lottie and Kit.”

******

Dean pulls up in front of a little barn off the main road, a couple miles away from the last bit of civilization. Castiel said that the big guys upstairs got a tip that the sacrifice was happening somewhere in the area. The whole thing is fishy — it's probably just a run in the mill job for angels to kill two witches, still they seem to need help from hunters. Castiel doesn’t find anything dodgy about that, and even if he does, he’s hiding it very well.

“The place is heavily warded against angels.” Castiel says, from the backseat. “You need to enter and break the warding.” 

“It’s almost as if someone told them they might have angel company.” Dean mutters.

“Perhaps, they might be working with demons,” Castiel says, not catching the whiff of what Dean’s hinting at, “it’s uncommon, but these are desperate times.” 

“Right,” Sam clears his throat, “we break the warding and you get in. Got it.” 

The barn is empty except for a slightly huge bonfire burning in the middle and a few sigils scribbled onto the walls. All of the signs point directly to trouble. Sam immediately gets to work, disabling the warding and Dean takes up scouring the barn. He’s barely halfway through when he gets air slammed to the wall, right on top of a warding sigil. He looks around to find Sam pinned to the opposite wall. Sam mouths ‘last one’ and gestures over his shoulder.

Two women, somewhere in their late twenties are leaning against the back door, matching outfits, cape, the whole nine.

“Hey there, ladies,” Dean chokes out, “put us down so we can talk this out.” 

“About that,” says who Dean assumes is the younger one, “We have our asses on line here to get this done so we’re gonna make this quick. Apparently, you boys are pretty hot stuff so we can’t sacrifice one of you.” She says, “No worries, we have backup. Zoe” 

The elder one - Zoe - waves her hand and murmurs something, and the air shimmers around them, a figure materializing at the far end of the barn. A guy in a suit, tied to a chair.

“Little cloaking spell, yours truly's invention.” Zoe says. “It’s time, Ester.” 

The girls huddle around the fire, more ingredients materializing around them.

“You do know what you’re getting into, right?” Sam says, “Kick starting the apocalypse is not going to do you any good.” He’s clearly stalling, giving enough time for Dean to disable the warding. Dean is scratching at the wall behind him blindly, hoping some bit of the red paint — _please don't be blood —_ comes off.

“That’s cute.” Ester scoffs, “We hold up our end of the bargain and we get full immunity. You two and every other pain in the ass hunters together won’t be able to prevent this, so just sit back and let us do our thing. We'll try to put on a show.” 

"You don't have to do this," Sam counters, "You think the devil is going to protect you?"

"Enemy's enemy is our friend, Sam." Zoe says, "We need to survive and for that we need to be respected, and feared." She flings something that looks like a bag of toes into the fire. Dean internally gags. "Once we help Lucifer rise, we will be feared and respected. Even the ancestors will grant us all their power. The heretics will be unbeatable."

"Fake promises, sweetheart." Dean says, scratching hard against the wall behind him, "You're gonna end up being collateral damage."

Zoe waves her hand and Dean loses his voice, air straining against the walls of his throat as he struggles to speak.

Zoe and Ester chant and fling stuff into the fire, the air around them static and murky, having nothing to do with the candles and smoke. Zoe drags the guy’s chair forward, his screams muffled by the cloth tied around his mouth.

Dean almost loses all hope when suddenly the barn door bursts open, and Castiel is there, a taller man by his side. The witches, to Dean’s surprise, don't stop their hocus pocus, only increasing their vigor. The guy next to Castiel steps forward, throwing the witches against the wall. He clenches his fist and they cough and sputter, gasping for air. The magic wears off the exact moment their limp bodies clutter to the floor and Dean falls to the ground. Strong hands lift him up and Castiel stays by his side, a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Go help the guy out of his chair.” Dean pushes Castiel away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Cas. Go.” Dean rushes over to where Sam is sitting on the floor, clutching his wrist.

“You okay?” Dean helps him up, winching when his back aches with the effort. He’s getting old.

“Yeah, might have sprained my wrist.” Sam says, “Who was the other guy?”

“My name is Uriel.” The man says, staring them down like a bored tourist, “I work with Castiel, and I’m here to help him.” He presses a finger to Sam’s forehead and he flexes his wrist in awe.

“More angels, peachy.” Dean mutters. “What do you want?” Uriel is nothing like Cas, though they share the same coldness, something about the guy makes Dean want to punch him in the face.

“And pray tell me, what makes you think you have the upper hand here?”

"Something tells me we do," Sam says, "otherwise you wouldn't have hesitated turning us into dust."

"Sammy's got a point." Dean grins at the douchebag, "You're desperate for our help, or you wouldn't even be here. So play nice, and you might get something out of us."

"You insolent creatures have no-"

"Uriel, you have served your purpose, you may leave now." Castiel says, the command in his tone sending a shiver down his spine. Dean needs a regular reminder that the dorky little guy can atomize him without breaking a sweat.

“You are doing pretty well on your own, brother.” Uriel says, the words dripping acid “I will contact you as the next mission arrives.” The familiar gust of wind blows past and Uriel is gone.

"Look at you, Cas," Dean can't help the grin on his face, "Standing up to your shitty coworkers. Good job, buddy."

Castiel sighs, "I appreciate the sentiment, but Uriel is under my commanding rank. I have the leeway to issue orders to him." He says, "I assume you would like to drive back to your motel?" Dean notices Castiel's flight mode kicking in.

"Cas, wait. What now?”

“Until Lilith decides which seal to break next, you can rest.”

“You’re going back to heaven?” Dean spits out, before he can hide the weight in his words.

Castiel shifts his focus away from Dean, “I will return the hostage to his family and then return back to heaven. My superiors will be needing to know the details of the mission.”

“Right, orders.” Dean grumbles, not knowing where the annoyance is coming from, “You know where to find us.”

Castiel meets his gaze for one last time, an unreadable look in his eyes before the telltale sound of wings echo through the barn.

“I’ll never get used to that.” Sam says.

“Yeah, it’s better if we don’t.”

******

Castiel works up the courage to talk to Zachariah about Sam's suggestion about four times, backing down during each of them, too scared of the repercussions. Finally, when Zachariah adjourns the meeting, Castiel waits until all the angels leave to make the suggestion.

"Now what?" Zachariah asks, exasperation visible in his tone.

"I wanted to make a suggestion." Castiel says, and continues before he can get shot down, "Isn't finding Lilith and expending her much more efficient than tracking down which seal she is planning to break?"

"And in whose head did this little idea spring up?" Zachariah says, "I'm assuming it's the Winchesters."

"They do make a valid point." Castiel almost regrets his words when he notices the displeasure on Zachariah's face.

"Barely more than a week and you're head over heels for those humans?" Zachariah says, like being human is the worst possible fate one can have. "You serve heaven, Castiel. Not those pesky little Winchester.’

"We _are_ supposed to be serving humanity, not silently watching them go down to dust.” 

Zachariah glowers at him, his wings expanding in an effort to intimidate him, "Those rules are forgotten, Castiel. An apocalypse would only be doing us a favor. Humanity is feeble, it can be erased and rebuilt in a matter of seconds." He says, "A clean slate would benefit all of us. If Lucifer is willing to do that for free, then why bother stopping him?"

"So the orders are to let millions of people die?" Castiel spits out, "And _God_ commanded it?"

"God," Zachariah scoffs, "Where is this God, Castiel? He created humans and left us in charge of those apes. Now we make the rules, Castiel. If you can't follow, you have other paths ahead of you."

“You cannot tell me heaven is in favor of letting the devil walk the earth.”

Zachariah sighs, “It’s not like we’re the ones opening the door, Castiel.” He says, “If Lilith pulls that off with the help of your Winchesters, we just turn our heads the other way. Once Lucifer is out, the archangels can finish him once and for all. It will be a new beginning.”

“I will not let Sam and Dean be manipulated into this.” 

“You can try,” Zachariah laughs, “They are just pawns, Castiel. A little nudge here and a little push there — that’s all it takes.”

“And that’s where you are wrong. Sam and Dean are capable of making the right choices. It does not matter if they are humans, they are fighting for the good side, which unfortunately, is not heaven.” 

“And where do you think you belong?” Zachariah asks, “It’s pathetic of you to be this delusional, Castiel. You think those humans care for you? You think you have a place there?” 

The words land heavy on his chest. He does not expect anything from the Winchesters, that does not mean he won’t do what is right. 

“I’m not worried about my position in this universe. Doing the right thing is what I care about, even if it kills me.” He says, “Sam and Dean are making the right choices now. That is all that matters.” 

“You disobey orders and you know what comes next."

“I do, Zachariah.” He says, "I will be leaving now." Castiel does not wait for Zachariah's dismissal.

He flies around the cloudy sky for a few hours, finding himself circling over Bobby Singer's house eventually. He senses the content hum of Dean's soul, waves of warmth spreading out to Castiel. He finds himself in Dean's room, staring at the sleeping man. He does not wish to wake Dean up, so he stays there silently, just as he used to when he soothed Dean's nightmares the first few times.

Back at the barn, something strong, something akin to a yearning had emerged from Dean, capturing Castiel like a helpless fish in the fisherman's net. Castiel was not sure if Dean wanted him to stay or go, his soul saying a different story from his eyes. 

Dean stirred in his sleep, hands rubbing over his eyes. He jumps a little as he notices Castiel, "Son of a bitch." He mutters, "How long were you peeping on me, Cas?" Adjacent to the displeasure, there is a slight amusement in his tone.

"Not too long. I did not intend to wake you up, Dean." Castiel says, preparing himself to leave if Dean asks him to.

"That's exactly what you shouldn't do, Cas." Dean says, peeling the covers of his bare torso, "If you find me when I'm sleeping, you wake me up."

Castiel nods. He opens his mouth to say something, the only problem being he does not know what is plaguing his mind. More accurately, he is unwilling to admit that he knows exactly what is plaguing his mind. He does not know what answers he is looking for in Dean.

"Hey, come here." Dean pats the mattress next to him, the thumping sound loud in the otherwise silent room. The mattress dips as Castiel sits down next to Dean, their knees touching. Dean twitches a little, the hum of his soul growing brighter. "You look spooked, Cas. What's wrong?"

Castiel braves his eyes up to Dean, everything else being too difficult to focus on, "I don't know what is right, Dean." He says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I suggested Sam's plan to my superior and…"

"And?"

"He abstained me from questioning his orders ever again." Castiel mumbles, "Everything seems too complicated, Dean. It is as though no one in heaven cares enough to make an effort to save the world. The orders are directly from my father, yet they don't seem like they are. It's more or less filtered and customized commands, tailored to suit someone's interest." Castiel realizes what he said only after the words have left him. He's doing everything he swore not to do. Questioning his orders, plotting behind heaven's knowledge, _disobeying._ And what is more frightening is that he does not feel guilty, rather he feels liberated.

"You're saying someone's playing you?" Dean asks, "If so, who? Who's the one giving you orders?"

“All the garrisons report to our direct superior Zachariah.” He says, “Zachariah gets his commands from the archangels and further above them, the orders come from my father.” 

“So you don’t talk to God?” 

“No.” Castiel observes the floor intently, wishing he had a different answer for Dean’s question. “No one has seen our father since he left, and only the archangels get to hear his voice, or so they claim.”

“Well, who would’ve known heaven runs on the principle of absent fathers,” Dean laughs dryly, “Cas, can I ask you something?”

“I’m afraid I might not have an answer.” He knows that for sure, since nothing in his immortal life is making any sense right now.

“Just hear me out,” Dean pauses for a moment, “What would happen if you told heaven to fuck off and started doing things on your own accord?” Castiel feared to even think of the answer to that question. Yet, here Dean was, phrasing it like it is all so simple. “What are you so afraid of, Cas?”

“Disobedience leads to fall, I will be lost. Following orders is all I know, Dean.” Castiel says, “I have been alive since the beginning of time and always knew I was expendable. One or the other day, I will have to give up my life. That did not matter if I was sacrificing myself fighting for the good. At one point in my mission to rescue you, I thought I might be approaching my final moments. It did not frighten me because you were and still are everything that represents good, Dean. It would only have been an honor.” He feels Dean’s hand on his shoulder, the touch warm like that occasional ray of sunlight on a cold afternoon. “And now, the line between good and evil is non existent.” 

“Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, “You’re a good guy. And don’t you dare think you don’t matter. You’re fighting the good fight, Cas. Don’t you see it, angels were made to protect humanity and you turned out to be the only one hitting the mark.” Dean tugs slightly against his shoulder, forcing Castiel to meet his eyes, “I’m not the one to speak for God, but if he were around, he’d be proud of you, buddy.”

Castiel should not be feeling this, yet it’s too hard to resist. The influence Dean has over him terrifies him as much as it exhilarates him, enough so that he, for a second, wonders what it would be like to cut ties with heaven. He’s truly lost.

“Hey, look at me,” Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, not remembering when it was that he looked away, “You’re not lost, Castiel. Family doesn’t have to be blood, or grace in your case. It’s something to be earned. You're our friend and if you trust us enough, you have a home here, buddy.”

The hunter might not realize what he is offering, he truly does not deserve the company of someone like Dean. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, tying down all the loose ends of the storm brewing in his chest. Before he leaves, he finds Dean's gaze one last time, “You truly are something else, Dean.” 

Dean gives him a hint of a smile, “You’re not too bad either.”

******

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update here! Let me know your feedback in the comments.

### Chapter 7

_"Far sweeter than the lyre, far more golden than gold."_

  
  


Dean doesn't hear any weird happenings for two whole weeks, which in itself is weird. His own head has been eating him alive with it’s matinee show of nightmares, the worst part of it being how on edge both Sam and Bobby are around him, treating him like a little kid about to have a breakdown. The general radio silence is relaxing as it is unnerving, the storm after the calm silently looming over them. That's until one Sunday afternoon, he's munching down his fifth slice of pizza when there's a _swoosh_ and a _crash_ on the front porch. The whole house is downstairs in a minute, guns ready in hand. Dean opens the door, ready to shoot whoever broke his peace, when the sight he sees makes his blood run cold.

Castiel is on the doorstep, leaning against the frame, patches of red poking out of his dress shirt from underneath the soiled trench coat. There is so much blood soaking his clothes that Dean's sure the guy's been skinned alive.

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean's hands are already around the bloody angel, "Who did you piss off, man?" 

“I promised you I would do the right thing, Dean.” The heaviness in those words makes something snap like a dry twig in his chest. 

“Fuck, Cas,” He carries Cas inside, lowering him to the couch. Dean runs a hand through his hair, trying to assess where to start patching up, “What did you do?” 

“Do we need to look out for any of your pals tracking you down here?” Bobby asks.

“Heaven suspected my loyalties were wavering.” Cas chokes out, “Angels in my own garrison turned against me. They tried torturing me into submission, aspiring for the role to lead the garrison.” He coughs up a stream of blood into his fist, “Need not worry, I promise no harm will come to any of you.”

“Cas, you child,” Dean says, trying to hide the quiver in his voice, “You could’ve died, man.”

“I did not.”

Dean is threateningly close to losing it, “Oh great, that makes it better.” He says, “You thought throwing yourself smack in the middle of a heaven that’s falling apart is a good idea?”

“Dean.” Sam warns him, but he’s on a roll.

“You’re rebelling against a bunch of dicks who have no sense of right and wrong, and I’m happy you’re making the right choice,” He says, “but, you can’t do any good if you’re dead, Cas.”

“He’s okay, boy.” Bobby says, and Dean knows that tone. 

“Is he though?” Dean asks, “We can’t babysit him in heaven, Bobby. He’s gonna end up...” The rest of the sentence refuses to make its way out of Dean’s mouth.

“I’m still here.” Cas says, and Dean would’ve punched him if he could find a spot that’s not soaked in blood. “This happened only once, Dean.”

“That’s one too many!” Dean doesn’t know how to stop yelling at this point.

“Can you calm down, Dean?” Sam asks. “Get your shit together, man. Cas, are you gonna heal quickly?”

“They drained my grace, and it may take a while to replenish.” Cas heaves.

“So, you’re kinda human. That means human first aid will work.” Dean is already out of the room. He grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and leans against the counter, trying to will his heart into slowing down. Dean is treading this line dangerously, caring too much about something that’s guaranteed to fuck him over.

"Come on, Cas," Dean ignores the pointed looks from Bobby and Sam, "Let's get you to bed." He throws Cas' hand over his shoulder, helping him up.

"Dean, You don't have to-"

"Shut your face and come with me." 

Dean guides him over to his own bed, stopping for a second to pull off Cas' coat and suit jacket. "You need to be more careful, man." 

He hesitates a moment before pulling at the top button on Castiel's dress shirt, "I would've bought you dinner first but there's no time for that." Dean sucks in a sharp breath, too late to take the words back. He winks at Cas, playing it off as a joke. Duct taping is mouth shut would do all of them a favor.

"I thought I told you I don't eat." Castiel knits his brows, and Dean's heart rattles in his chest like rocks in a tin can. As infuriating as it is sometimes, Dean thanks the great football coach in the sky for making the angels so oblivious. He pulls open the rest of the buttons and soaks a few cotton balls in alcohol, dabbing it to the really deep gashes on the angel's torso. Castiel winces lightly, gritting his teeth.

"How come it hurts?" Dean asks.

"These wounds were caused by angelic weapons." Castiel says.

"What actually happened, Cas?"

"Heaven's loyalties are split right now. Most angels working under Zachariah's orders are too afraid to disobey from fear of falling." Cas says. "A few of my own garrison members now work for Zachariah and Uriel. They summoned me, faked an emergency and captured me. Luckily, a few of the other angels both in and out of my garrison were suspicious of the rulings. They helped me escape." 

"Fucking fantastic." Dean grits his teeth, tearing off some gauze and applying it to a gash below the angel's collarbone.

Cas sighs, shoulders drooping. "I'm sorry, Dean. I was trying to help." 

Dean puts all his nagging thoughts on the back burner as he takes Castiel's hand in his, "Back when we were kids, me and Sammy went boogie boarding in the snow while we were in Minnesota. Dad was off working a case and it was smack in the middle of the night." He smiles a little at the thought, Castiel's curious eyes watching him. "Sammy was barely ten and I dared the kid to do it. Him being the little shit he is, tried proving he could and ended up with a tear down his torso. There was so much blood spilled over the snow and I nearly had a stroke. I got him patched up before dad came back three days later."

Castiel's fingers tighten around his, "Am I expected to draw some lesson from this story?"

Dean laughs after what feels like a year, "The point is, this is not the first time someone's been hurt because of something I said. I'm just some stupid, no name hunter, Cas. You don't need to die over something dumb falling out of my mouth." He rubs small circles over the skin of Castiel's palm, "If listening to heaven is what keeps you safe then you do that."

Castiel tugs at his arm, forcing him to meet his eyes "Firstly, if you could see yourself the way I see you, you wouldn't think so low of yourself. There is so much good in you, it's remarkable. You're remarkable, Dean." Cas says, like it's the one thing he's sure of. 

Dean hates how much he wants to feel appreciated. Castiel is giving him way too much and Dean has nothing to give in return, nothing good. 

"And secondly,” Cas continues, “If I had known that the angels were working against everything I believed was right, I would have given up on them a while ago. You don't need to take blame for my choices, Dean. I can't let you do that."

Dean feels a shudder leave his chest, Castiel's words landing there instead, too heavy for Dean to stand up straight. "Get some rest, Cas." He applies the last bit of bandage below Castiel's collar bone, and stands up.

"Dean." He doesn't know what Cas is asking for but he sure as hell has nothing to give him. 

"Rest, Castiel." He leaves the door open just a crack.

  
  


******

The first sign of his replenishing grace is the warmth of Dean's soul spreading through him. When he opens his eyes, sure enough, Dean is right next to him, worry etched into his features.

"Mornin' sunshine." Dean grins, eyes racking over him.

"How long was I…" His head hurts as he tries to identify the date.

"Don't break your head." Dean says, "You were out for three days."

"Okay." Castiel pushes himself back against the headboard, his muscles protesting the movement. 

"Tank's still not full, huh?"

"If you're referring to my grace, no, it's not."

"You need something? Water? Coffee?" Dean asks, "Beer?"

"I don't need anything, Dean." He finds himself in his - _Jimmy's_ \- clothes from three days ago, short of the trench coat, tie and suit jacket folded into a neat pile on the nightstand. Through the unbuttoned top half of his dress shirt, he peeks at his torso, all the wounds except for a few deep ones healed completely beyond trace.

"We had a few visitors while you were out." Dean says, "Your buddy Uriel and some other douchebags."

"What did they want?" In that moment he regrets his choice of showing up at Dean's doorstep. 

"Calm down, Cas." Dean says, "Bobby pulled up some warding sigils and a few I remembered from back at the barn, so they couldn't enter, probably why your grace is taking time to fill up. They pounded on the door for a few hours, saying we had to hand you over or we will face cosmic consequences." He says, simply. "Are they gonna show up with a wrecking ball?"

"You shouldn't have put yourself in the path of danger, Dean." Castiel remembers the time he thought protecting the Winchesters from harm would be an easy task. 

"Bold words coming from someone who showed up ragged and bloody at our doorstep," Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel snaps his mouth shut at that. 

"Anyways, we sat that one out until they got bored and left."

"You could have just handed-" The rest of the words die out in his mouth at the way Dean glowers at him.

"You finish that sentence and so help me, I will kick your ass." Dean declares, "I will kick your ass so bad you'd be out for another three days. And when you wake up, I will kick your ass again."

Threats of assault do not stop Castiel from smiling. If his father listens, Castiel will thank him for letting him be the one to find Dean. As selfish as it is, every moment he spends with Dean, Castiel felt a little closer to peace. For the very same reason, Dean needs to know what Sam has been plotting behind his back.

"Dean, I-" A knock echoes on the other side of the door. Sam peaks in, his eyes landing instantly on Castiel.

"Guys, we need to talk." Sam says.

Moments later, they are all gathered in Bobby Singer's living room.

"You got something to share with the class, Sammy?" Dean asks, from where he's perched on the arm rest of the couch.

"Actually, yeah." Sam says, "I have been tracking Lilith for some time now."

"Of course, you were." Dean says, and Castiel is taken aback by the fury radiating from Dean's soul. "What the hell, Sam?"

"Just hear me out, Dean," Sam says, "I have some lead on her. She’s resurfaced and kidnapping people.”

“How’d you know all this?”

“I have, let’s say, a source.” Castiel watches Sam visibly shrink into himself under Dean’s scrutiny. “Ruby gave me the intel.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Dean rubs a hand across his face, “Sammy, you gotta stop this bullshit. Ruby? Really?” He clenches his palm into a fist. “Since when do we trust demons?” 

“Since you died, Dean.” Sam shouts.

“That has nothing to do with running around with a demon, Sam.” Dean shouts back. Castiel should probably interfere, but he does not trust Dean’s rage. “This is all about your stupid obsession with killing Lilith.”

“Exactly, Dean.” Sam says, “Say what you want, but isn’t that where we are right now?”

“Not like this.” Dean says, “Not behind our back.”

“You didn’t bother to tell me at least?” Bobby asks, “All this time when you were running off with this and that, you were pulling this crap?”

“And you would have let me, Bobby?” Sam asks.

“That’s not the point, Sam.” Dean hisses, “Cas, you got anything to say on this?”

Castiel jerks back into reality, fiddling for an answer, “I shouldn’t.” He mumbles.

Through his peripheral vision, Castiel watches realization dawn on Dean’s face “You knew…” Dean mutters, “You son of a bitch. This whole time you knew, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Dean flops onto a chair, “You could’ve said something, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t have a valid explanation to give to Dean. He was heaven’s, as Dean would put it, ‘little bitch’, this whole time. His orders were to not interfere, so he kept quiet. Perhaps, interfering was a mistake. He should not be here, this is not his place.

“Castiel, I kid you not,” Dean fixes him with a glare, “fly your ass away right now and this will be the last time you see me.” He says, not knowing how much those words mean to Castiel. He doesn't even get time to understand how Dean knew he was about to leave before Dean is shouting again.

“And you Sam,” Dean jabs a finger in Sam’s direction. “Whatever you’re cooking up with that bitch, call it off right now.”

“Dean, this is our only chance.” Sam says.

“Sam might be right.” Castiel takes the liberty to intervene ones more. With every passing moment, Castiel is forced to face the fact that heaven might be in the wrong here. 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Dean declares, “Besides, this looks all sunny to you? Sure, suddenly Ruby has information on Lilith. How convenient.”

“I’m not saying this might not be a trap.” Sam ushers.

“There is no taking chances here, Sammy.” Dean says, “She will double cross us.”

“Not if we double cross her first.” Sam replies, “All this while, it’s not like I’ve been trusting her blindly. She keeps a tab on Lilith whenever she resurfaces and this is the first time in a long while, Dean.”

“How do we not know she’s not sending us on a wild goose chase?” Bobby asks. “Or worse, she could be sending us right into Lilith’s cul-de-sac.”

Strong waves of tension roll out of Dean’s soul and Castiel’s grace responds equally. He contains the urge to have some sort of contact with the man; to ease away the discomfort. 

“And why is Lilith topside again?” Dean asks.

“Glad you asked.” Sam says, “See, according to what Ruby said,” He glances at Dean and looks back at the laptop, “Lilith has kidnapped four girls from Kansas.”

“What, she’s starting her own dance group?” Dean asks.

“Apparently, it’s for a ritual.” Sam says, “There isn’t much we know about this but this is the first time Lilith herself is breaking a seal.”

“How do you know it’s even a seal?”

“It has to be.” Castiel says. “Lilith is aiming only at releasing Lucifer, and if she herself is performing the ritual, then this must be important.” During his time away from heaven, Castiel has no idea how many seals have been broken so far. This could be the third or the last, there is no way to tell. And he barely doubts heaven has bothered with the task of stopping Lilith.

“Awesome.” 

Sam says, “Listen, I know it’s probably a trap but this is the most we’ve got in the past few months.”

“Fine, Sam. Don’t oversell.” Dean says, “How are we gonna gank this bitch?”

“So, you remember Ruby’s knife?” Sam asks.

“No one knows the extent of harm that knife can inflict upon Lilith.” Castiel says, “It’s not worth taking a chance.”

“The colt?” Bobby asks.

“I have a better suggestion.” Castiel says. He uses his remaining grace to manifest his angel blade. The silver metal glimmers in his hand, “This can kill Lilith.”

"What on earth is that?" Bobby looks back and forth between him and the blade.

"It's my angel blade." Castiel says, "This weapon can kill nearly all supernatural creatures including myself."

Dean's soul flares up for a fraction of a second. He catches Castiel's gaze, "How many girls is Lilith planning to use for this?”

"Six." Sam replies. "Ruby said Lilith has got four so far."

“This whole thing is just sketchy man.” Dean says, "If we make it out of this, I'm plunging her own knife into her heart." 

"She's a demon, Dean. We kill demons." Sam states, "You think I care enough to vouch for her after we get what we need?"

"You better not." 

"So when do we leave?" Bobby asks.

"You wanna come?" Sam asks. "It's safer if you stay back, Bobby."

Bobby scowls at him, "Like hell I'm staying back. This is an all hands on deck thing, Sam."

“He is right.” Castiel seconds.

“Cas, can you fly us over by tomorrow morning?” Dean asks. 

“I suppose so.” His grace is almost fully replenished. Another night’s rest would suffice.

Dean nods curtly, “It’s a plan.”

Eventually, Sam and Bobby retreat back to their respective rooms, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. The air grows heavy between them, and Castiel watches the pale green and white glow of Dean’s soul swirling around each other in a frenzy. He could get lost in that soul forever; nothing else he has ever seen beats the virtuous beauty of Dean Winchester’s soul. Even as the righteous man sits a few feet away from him, his head thrown into his hands, the warmth of Dean pulls Castiel closer. For the first time in his life, the idea of being utterly and completely lost does not scare him.

“You’re doing the staring thing, Cas.” Dean says abruptly, jerking Castiel back into the present.

“I apologize, Dean.” Castiel peels his eyes away, “Are you alright?”

“No.” Dean does not elaborate.

“Should I leave?”

“Take a guess, buddy.”

“Yes?”

“Take another guess.”

Castiel can’t help hide the smile tugging at his lips, “Oh, okay.” 

Dean leans back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling. “You ever been with someone, Cas?”

Castiel blinks at Dean’s silhouette in the dimly lit room, “If you are referring to a relationship, no.”

“Not even an angel?” Dean asks, “Wait, don’t answer that. They’re your siblings.”

“Angels don’t engage in romantic or sexual relationships with each other, Dean”

“Figured.” Dean murmurs. He rises on his feet, shifting uneasily. “I’d sleep better if you are close enough to keep an eye on.”

Castiel doesn’t take long enough to decipher what Dean is hinting at. He leaps to his feet, wincing when his wounds protest. In a swift motion, Dean is right by his side, an arm curled around his waist. 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel breathes.

Dean gives a watery laugh, “You can stare all you want, Cas. I don’t mind.” 

“Not for that, Dean.” Castiel says, “I should have told you about Sam.”

Dean helps him into his bed, “My own brother is keeping things from me, Cas.” Dean says, “If he doesn’t trust me enough to tell, why would you?”

Castiel pulls Dean down next to him, their knees knocking against each other. “Sam trusts you, Dean, and so do I.” When Dean refuses to meet his eyes, Castiel raises a hand, cupping the side of his face, tilting it up to catch the sight of the green eyes he very much adores. “All throughout my life I obeyed orders, Dean. Until you came around and showed me what it was to have a mind of my own. The first choice I made was you, and I don’t regret a second of it.”

Something flickers behind Dean’s eyes, something conflicting and profound. A slides hand around the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him forward. 

When his lips meet Dean’s, Castiel feels complete.

  
  


******

Dean has done enough dumb things in his life, but nothing in God’s green Earth has felt this good. Castiel’s lips are so warm and soft against his, Dean feels threateningly close to spontaneously combusting. In the few seconds Castiel took to kiss back, Dean’s entire life flashed before his eyes. But the second those lips traced his movements, Dean knew he was done for. Every atom in his body is screaming _Cas Cas Cas._ The palm cupping his face, the lips on his and the hand resting on his hips, all of it feels so good, he can’t breathe. 

His entire life, Dean has been the pillar. When his dad would fight with his mom and crash at Bobby's, Dean was there, his hands around his mom's waist as he hugged her close. When a six month old baby in his arms and a burned down house was all he had left, Dean still held on. He wanted to be the shoulder everyone leaned on. Right now, he couldn't do that.

Right now, he needs Castiel.

Dean pulls away slowly, panting, “I…” In the thirty or so seconds they were kissing, Dean’s brain has managed to fuck off all the way to Miami.

“Do you have something to tell me, Dean?” Cas asks, blue eyes wide and blown back, “If not, can we please keep doing the kissing?”

How can he deny Cas anything when he asks like that?

Dean laughs, coiling his arms around Cas’ neck, “Yeah, we can do that.” He whispers against his lips before crushing them together. This time Cas doesn’t hesitate, a hand sliding into Dean’s hair as he presses his lips harder, like he’d die if he doesn’t get all of Dean. Dean responds equally, licking against the seam of Castiel’s lower lip, asking for entry. Castiel opens up underneath him, throwing Dean a curveball with the taste of Cas in his mouth, hot and addicting. Cas tugs him even closer, a slight wince escaping his lips. 

Dean pulls back hesitantly, “You need rest, Cas. Your wounds are still healing.” Cas𑁋 _that little fucker_ 𑁋has the audacity to pout like a kicked puppy. Dean almost caves in before knocking his upstairs brain back into function. He says, “Once you’re fine, we can do all the kissing you want,” and adds, “maybe even more.”

Cas nods enthusiastically at the idea. Dean chuckles, climbing into bed alongside the angel. 

“Turn over.” Dean murmurs, flicking the lights off. He presses a chaste kiss to the spot below the angel’s ear, throwing an arm around his waist, working around the bandages, “‘Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun story. I started writing this fic and got so engrossed in the plot that by the time I had about ten chapters plotted out, I literally forgot this was a destiel fic. I went through my draft and was like "...wait a minute, where's the romance?" Why am I like this?  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you next week.


	9. Chapter 9

### Chapter 8

_"You can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding."_

Dean wakes up to an empty bed and a mind full of worry. He remembers the solid warmth of Cas against his chest and the scratch of his stubble, still ghosting against Dean’s jaw. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and pads out to the living room, following the scent of coffee. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas greets, leaning against the sink, all dressed and well.

“You’re here.” Dean states ― not his smartest moment.

“Of course,” Cas smiles softly. He walks over, handing Dean a mug seemingly out of nowhere, “Once you are done with your coffee, we can leave.”

“Wait,” Dean looks over his shoulder into the empty living room and proceeds to tug Cas close by the lapel of his coat, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Better.” He whispers, trying not to let his expression betray how much he wants to make sure all of it wasn't a dream.

Cas cups the side of his face, running a thumb across the delicate skin under his eyes, “Are you alright with this, Dean?”

Dean blinks back in confusion, “With what?”

“With this, _us._ ”

Dean smirks at him, “Remind me who made the first move.”

“Not the answer to my question, Dean.” Castiel’s voice sends something electric through Dean’s spine. He tries hard to form a coherent thought with his upstairs brain.

“I’m as alright as it can get, Cas.” He says, “Now if you excuse me, we got a demon to kill.” He walks past Cas out of the kitchen, smacking the angel’s ass on the way out. Dean chuckles when Cas yelps in surprise.

Ten minutes later as they are done packing, Cas flies them over to Kansas. 

"That was like playing roulette with a rocket launcher." Bobby says.

"It'll grow on you," Dean snorts. "Sammy, where's that bitch?" 

"Good to see you too, Dean." Ruby has switched bodies since the last time he saw her. "Hey, Sam."

"Nice meat suit." Dean says, "So where's Lilith?"

"Nice try." Ruby's eyes fall on Castiel. "Thanks for the rescue mission, by the way." She says, "I broke my back cleaning up the mess."

Cas' face is stone cold when he speaks, "Tell us what you know about Lilith, demon." Dean reminds himself the guy he cuddled up to last night is a literally celestial being, capable of squashing him like a bug. The thought makes him feel a bunch of things that warrants a visit to the psych ward.

"Lilith has fetched three girls so far." She says, "She's supposed to be hunting for her next three any time now. But before I tell you anything else, let's talk terms."

"Here we go." Dean mutters, "You're playing spy, Ruby. You cross Lilith and she kills you, or you cross us and we kill you."

"Or," Ruby holds up a finger, "I give you intel,” She glances at Sam, "You give me my knife back, right now."

"Not gonna happen." Sam and Dean both say at the same time.

"Then you can wait here until Lilith gets bored and comes knocking on your door."

"Wait.” Cas glances at Dean and back at Ruby, “You lead us straight to Lilith and we give you the knife,” He says, “provided you don’t leave our side until Lilith’s vessel hits the ground.” Dean keeps his mouth shut, choosing to trust Cas.

Ruby sighs, “It’s a deal.” Castiel opens his mouth but she waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah, I know. I break the deal and you hunt me down yada yada yada.”

“So, where’s the bitch?” Dean asks.

“She surfaces only after sundown, the ritual is supposed to happen then,” Ruby says, “Until then, who wants to get some fries?”

  
  


******

Ten minutes later they're squished into a booth at the back end of another one of the thousand Biggerson's they passed on their way. Dean is smack in the middle of Cas and Ruby serving as a human buffer.

"There's literally a demon and an angel on my shoulder." Dean comments. 

Cas looks up from where he's examining a fry he picked up from Dean's plate, "Not literally. Well, not figuratively either." He tilts his head, face mere inches away from Dean's. "Huh, this is a peculiar situation."

"For fucks sake," Ruby mutters, "Get your gooey eye sex out of my face."

Dean chokes on a piece of bread, coughing and sputtering, throwing angry glares at Ruby. Cas doesn't seem to bother, now completely engrossed in the working of mustard. 

"Alright, order order." Sam slaps his hand on the table, earning a few stink eyes.

"You're not a lawyer, Sam." Dean mutters. 

"I was pre-law. I qualify." Sam counters. "Another missing person's report was filed yesterday night, one Victoria West."

"That's fourth." Ruby says "Lilith is wasting no time."

"If this seal can be broken only with Lilith actually being there, then chances are she's got high security around here." Sam says.

"If this is all her doing at all." Dean comments.

"Actually no, it's the terrorists." Ruby sneers. "And the last seal, where the six species of fishes disappeared, that's on climate change."

"You think we would've just jumped on your wagon of lies just like that?" Dean barks, "This whole thing stinks, you acting like you're being helpful while it's all some scheme-"

"Swear to God," Bobby says, "One more word and I'll kick your lily white asses to next Tuesday." He turns to Sam, "You got a plan, kid?"

Sam swallows, "We have the _thing_ that can kill Lilith. Now we need a way to lure her to us."

"Will she be able to sense we're here?" Bobby asks.

"There's too much mixed signals." Ruby says, "Demon, human, and your boy there” she points at Cas “is like a walking talking wavelength. She'll lose her shit trying to pinpoint us."

“Give me names of her previous three victims.” Sam tells Ruby.

Ruby leans over, telling the details as Sam types them into the laptop. He turns the laptop around, the Facebook profiles of four girls in their late teenage years visible on the screen. 

“Notice something?” Sam asks.

Dean scans the profiles, his eyes falling upon one detail common to all four. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Cas asks.

“Their cherries haven’t popped yet.” Sam makes a face and Cas continues to stare at him. Dean sighs, “Virgins, Cas.”

“So we track down all the virgins in this town?” Bobby asks.

“You better be careful, Sammy.” Dean grins.

“He thinks he’s really funny.” Sam grumbles. “We don't need to scour the town. All these girls took their chastity oath from St. Augustus Church, downtown.” He says, “We can head out there and find the list.”

“Man, it’s so depressing." Dean remarks, "Trying to please God and ending up in a demon's hand."

“Human beliefs are so much more complex than what faith really is.” Cas says, all serious. “Abstaining from sexual intimacy does not particularly please God.”

Dean snorts, “People are weird, Cas. You’re gonna love the conservatives.”

“Bobby and I will head down to the Church and get the list.” Sam says. “You three can go talk to the vics’ families.”

“No fucking way.” Dean exclaims. “Like hell she’s coming with me.”

Ruby pouts, her hand on her chest, “Wow, you really hurt my feelings, Dean.” 

“I can’t take her to a church.” Sam says, “Besides, she’s got less chance of bolting with Castiel around.”

“I’m like, right here.” Ruby says.

“Fine, whatever.” Dean turns to Ruby, a finger right up to her face, “Pull some kind of trick and you will be real sorry.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, swatting his hand away. “I heard you the first ten times.”

“Cas, keep them from stabbing each other.” Sam says to him, “I’m trusting you on this.”

Dean grins at Cas, like the little shit he is and Cas just sighs. “I will try my best.” To make Cas’ job easy, Dean grabs the mustard and pours it on top of Ruby’s plate of fries. 

“Good luck.” Sam mutters, sliding out of the booth, Bobby in tow.

  
  


******

Castiel glances back at the demon through the rear view mirror, fidgeting slightly in her presence, the black smoke that is her soul twisting and bubbling. She looks equally uncomfortable, judging by her demeanor. 

“So, how’s hell?” Dean attempts at starting a conversation. 

“Shut up.” Ruby mutters.

“You look like a motorcycle thief.” Dean says, “You gotta look like an agent for this to work.”

“I’ll just stay in the car. You guys can go play dress up for as long as you like.”

“You want me to leave the keys too?” Dean mocks. “Cas, can you stay back with her?”

Castiel scowls at Dean, finding himself unable to deny the man’s request.

“I’ll be quick. Please?”

Castiel sighs, “Okay.”

Behind them, Ruby makes a whipping noise, laughing when Dean glares at her. Castiel looks back and forth between them, but neither of them say anything. 

Dean parks his car across the first victim’s house. “If she annoys you too much, just knock her out.” His fingers momentarily brushes Castiel’s forearm, eyes soft as a hint of smile flickers across his lips. 

Once Dean crosses the threshold of the house, Castiel keeps his eyes straight ahead, watching the birds picking straws and carrying it over to their nests.

“I was there when Dean was in hell. Gotta say, it was his peak performance.” Ruby says, “It’s usually hard to impress Alastair.”

“As Dean rightfully suggested, I will knock you out.” Castiel says.

“If he stayed there any longer, he’d have been just like me.” Ruby continues, “I mean, he’s already full of misery, and has enough blood on his hands. Don’t need black eyes to be a demon.”

Castiel’s jaw clenches in its own violation. “Dean is nothing but good. The evil in you keeps you from seeing the good in people.”

Ruby laughs. “Keep telling yourself that.” She says, “One day you’ll regret your choices. One day you will realize there’s nothing for you here.”

Castiel’s grip on his blade tightens. He looks out through the window and sees Dean stepping out of the house, a middle aged woman closing the door behind him.

“Good, everyone’s alive.” Dean climbs into the driver’s seat. 

“What did you find?” Castiel asks.

“Nothing much, Cas.” Dean says, “Let’s go talk to the other two.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon driving around the neighborhood and talking to the victims’ families. 

When Dean returns back to the Impala after visiting the final family, he leans forward, resting his head on the steering wheel. “That was exhausting.”

“What did you find?” Castiel asks.

“Olivia and Madeleine were running a fundraiser for the church the night they went missing.” Dean says, “Her friend Jane went missing the very next evening on her way back from school. Her backpack was found half a mile off the spot where Olivia was grabbed.”

“And the fourth victim, Victoria?”

“Victoria went missing the next day after Jane, but the parents waited a whole day before filing a report because apparently,” Dean holds up a ring, “she wanted to have some fun.”

******

“One more report has been filed about an hour ago.” Sam says, as they enter the room, “One Heather Finnigan.”

“That’s five now.” Dean sighs. “Who’s left on the list?”

“Quinn Beckley.”

“Got her address?”

“Yeah.” Sam grabs a notepad, “She’s still probably at school.”

“Alright, Cas and I will look upon that.” Dean flops down on the motel bed, wincing when it creaks loudly, “This one kid ― Victoria ― that went missing left her promise ring back before she ran away.”

“She ran away?” Bobby asks.

“According to her parents, yeah.” Dean says, “She was pretty messed up after three of her friends went missing and kind of lost faith in the whole saving for Jesus crap.”

"Just because she left her anti sex ring back at home, doesn't mean she jumped the bones of the first guy she saw." Ruby says.

"But, we can't be too sure.” Sam says. “Lilith needs virgins for whatever she’s planning, but we don't even know if Lilith has backups."

"We don't even know if this girl fell into Lilith's hands." Dean says. "For all we know, she could be on a road trip to Vegas."

"I can travel to Las Vegas and retrieve her." Castiel says, with all seriousness.

Dean shakes his head, laughing, "I was just joking, Cas." 

Cas tilts his head, brows knitted together and Dean can’t help but smile at the angel, feeling his heart pick up in his chest.

“Anyways,” Sam clears his throat, "I'm gonna go down to the sheriff's office and try to get some more info on Victoria.” 

“Take your girlfriend with you.” 

"Fuck off, jerk." Sam huffs a laugh. "Bobby, why don't you come along?"

"Uh, yeah." Bobby grunts, following Sam out of the door.

  
  


******

As soon as Sam, Ruby and Bobby step, Castiel watches Dean lock the door behind them, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Within seconds, Dean is on him, lips pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

"Dean," Castiel breathes, resting his hands on Dean's waist. He hooks a finger under Dean's chin, lifting his face to meet his lips in a soft kiss. Dean cups Castiel's face in both hands, tongue pressing into his mouth. He feels Dean smile into the kiss, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. Castiel feels mesmerized, every single creation of his father's seemingly forgotten in the green of Dean's eyes.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean whispers, "Been thinking of this whole day...thinking of you."

Castiel doesn't hesitate pulling the man back into a heady kiss as he forgets everything around him. Dean responds beautifully, melting into his arms. 

"You said we could do more." Castiel reminds him, trailing his fingers over Dean's clothed chest.

Dean laughs, a soft and lovely thing. He wraps a hand around Castiel's wrist, leading them towards the bed. 

"Relax, Cas." Dean whispers against the shell of his ear, gently pushing him down on the bed, straddling his things. Their clothing falls off one by one, scattering somewhere on the dimly lit motel room floor.

Castiel feels the desperate need to feel Dean against him, to kiss him over and over again until he knows this is real. His head falls back. "Dean, please…" He begs, not knowing what he's asking for. Dean, ever as understanding, leans forward, hands leaving fleeting touches on his bare chest, while his lips work down Castiel's throat.

"Shh...Cas," Dean whispers against the column of his neck, "Wanna make you feel so good…"

"Dean…" Something shatters in his chest as Castiel digs his blunt nails into Dean's shoulders, pulling a groan out of the man above him. The next time Dean moves, Castiel nearly jumps off the bed, the friction against his cock sending waves of electricity through him. "I…" He trails off.

"Tell me what you need, Cas." Dean gasps against his chest, "I got you, angel." He grinds forward, rubbing his boxer clad length against Castiel's own, a harmonious groan escaping their chests. It goes as fast as it came, Dean crawling backwards, pressing kisses down his stomach and hips. Castiel lets out a sound of protest but Dean ignores him, fixated on Castiel's skin.

"Want to feel you, Dean." Castiel whispers.

"Good." Dean says, pulling off his boxers in one go, "Fuck, that's hot." He grins, peering up at Castiel through his lashes. 

Dean dips down, licking a strip along his cock, making Castiel's hips stutter. Dean's hands pin his hips down, biting and licking at the skin on the underside of his thigh. Castiel keens under the touch, carding his hands through Dean's hair. Dean moans headily into his skin, the vibrations travelling all the way to his nerves.

"Dean, I need…" He pants, every last bit of awareness seeping away from him, slowly.

He feels Dean's smile on his skin. "If we weren't in a hurry, I would've made you squirm…" With that, Dean swallows him down, his head hitting the back of Dean's throat. Castiel's hips snap up in response and Dean groans, the sound making him want to sob.

Castiel leans further back against the bed, watching as Dean bobs his head up and down, the warm pressure of his tongue twisting something low in his gut. He gasps when Dean swirls his tongue around the head, reaching out for the man.

“Kiss me, Dean...please.” Dean doesn’t hesitate as he pulls off, crawling over to Castiel’s lap. He hooks a finger into the waistband of Dean’s boxers, pulling it off and throwing it somewhere close to the pile of clothes haphazardly strewn on the floor. Right now, he doesn’t care, not when Dean is grinding down against him, the pressure delicious and grounding. He thrust up against Dean experimentally, and the man groans, Castiel eagerly soaking up the sounds into a kiss. When Dean wraps a hand around both of them, stroking rhythmically, Castiel arches into the touch, digging his blunt nails into Dean’s shoulder. The pressure twists and churns low in his gut, threatening to burst out of him any minute. Dean leans forward, mouthing at his jaw, wet heat pushing him off the edge. Castiel comes into Dean’s fist, hard and better than anything he has ever felt. Dean follows suit with a deep groan against Castiel’s chest. 

They stay like that for a while, arms and legs tired and wrapped around each other.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean sighs, “the stuff you do to me…”

“I could say the same.” Castiel untangles himself from Dean, holding the man’s face in his hands. “You’re wonderful, Dean.”

Dean laughs, swatting his hand away, “You sap.” He climbs out of Castiel’s lap, trudging into the bathroom. Dean returns with a washcloth, wiping them clean gently. “We gotta get going.” 

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel knows no matter how much he apologizes, the damage is done.

"What for?"

"I did not wish for you to get entangled in this mess."

Dean grabs their clothes from the floor and hands it to him, "It's not your fault, Cas. Not entirely." He says, "Sam was already trailing Lilith and at some point we would've ended up smack in the middle of this, angels or not." 

Castiel pulls on his clothes silently. He feels Dean’s hand against his hip, thumb stroking small circles. 

“I vowed to protect you, Dean.” Castiel says. “I had heaven’s support back then, but now I’m just giving out empty promises.”

“Cas, I can look after myself.” Dean says, "Besides, I'd rather have you as you are instead of some guardian angel.”

Castiel cocked his head, confused, "I don't know what else I am..." He trailed off. He's not sure what Dean wants him to be, or what he himself wants to be. 

"You're Castiel." Dean cups his face in his hands, "Beyond the fact that you're an angel, there is so much more to you. You're probably overdue for an identity crisis, but trust me when I tell you, you mean a lot to me and I'm not going to ask anything in return except for you to be safe. Whatever that might cost me."

Castiel feels his heart swell to the brim at those words, "Dean..."

"S' gonna be okay, Cas." Dean smiles softly, "You can't get worked up over me dying 'cause I have the reputation of biting the dust a lot." 

“That is not a good reputation, Dean.”

“You’re not a good reputation.” Dean mutters, “Let’s get going, then?”

“When you’re ready.” 

******


	10. Chapter 10

### Chapter 9

_ "Pick a God and pray to it." _

Dean and Castiel have been trailing Quinn Beckley for the past twenty minutes, as she walks deeper and deeper into the creepy woods at the edge of the town.

“Something is wrong.” Dean whispers, “Why’s this girl walking into the middle of bumfuck?”

“We could always capture her and force the information out of her.” Cas says. 

Dean smacks him on the shoulder and mutters, “That’s absolutely everything we shouldn’t be doing.” 

Finally after what feels like a couple of weeks, Quinn rounds the corner and disappears into an abandoned warehouse. They wait for a few seconds before pushing open the door and slipping in. 

“There is no one here.” Cas points out.

Dean shines his flashlight to aid the dangling overhead bulb flickering like it’s about to go off. The air smells like rust and soot, with a taint hint of sulfur. 

“There’s gotta be someone, Cas,” Dean says. “Quinn didn’t just disappear into thin air.”

Beside him, Cas still. “I hear footsteps, someone must be approaching."

Dean gestures Cas to one side of the door and he takes the other. Gun held in one hand, Dean pulls the door open, aiming it to the first face he sees.

“What the fuck?” Sam stares back at him, his own gun aimed at Dean’s face. 

“Sammy?” Dean lowers his gun, looking around the group. "What the hell?"

Sam holds up a leather bag in his hand, "We found this here, belongs to one Heather Finnigan." 

"Fucking great." Dean rubs a hand across his face. “We followed Quinn back here but now she's gone.” 

"What do you mean gone?" Bobby asks.

"Disappeared into thin air, that's what," He replies. "Ruby, you got an explanation?"

“Hey, don’t look at me.” She scowls at him, “I didn’t do shit.”

“I told you this bitch would fuck us over.”

“You know what, up until now I was not. But, at this point I’m really considering it.”

“Isn’t this just great.” A voice echoes behind them, and all heads turn. A woman stands with her hand crossed over her chest, her white dress glimmering yellow under the flickering light, looking at them like they’re her own personal puppet show. “I owe you boys big time, just bringing me what I want right into my arms.” Behind her, little over a dozen more demons appear, all the six missing girls tied up and half unconscious by their side. Every racking memory from hell breaks through the walls in his head, making his breathing come out ragged.

"Lilith." Castiel says, the grip on his blade tightening visibly.

"Castiel." Lilith scoffs. "A lone wolf away from his pack, I hear. Choosing humans over your own kind, quite brave, I must say."

He feels Cas tense, the air around them growing dangerously electric. 

"And, dear old Sam." She continues, "Chumming it out with us demons, now. You out of all people should know revenge isn't the answer."

"I'm not asking any questions, bitch." Sam snarls, "You hurt my brother and now you're hurting more people."

Dean's chest fills with pride for his stupidly suicidal brother and he reminds himself to be nice to Sammy if they make it out of this alive.

Lilith's cold gaze fixes on Dean, making a strange sense of uneasiness creeping up his gut. "Your brother, yes. But he called that upon himself by selling his soul." She turns to Sam. "But I don't intend to hurt these girls. All I wanted was a pint of their bloods, which I did collect, just in case." She holds up a vial, the red liquid sloshing back and forth.

"Let them go." Castiel demands.

"Angel, ever heard of leverage?" Lilith grins, and Dean resists the urge to punch her in the face. "I may not intend to hurt them, doesn't mean I won't."

Within seconds, a flash of lightning and the familiar dark silhouette of wings flicker across Dean's eye, his human brain being too slow to process all of it. Cas goes charging at Lilith, slashing and dodging the attacks of her demons. Dean follows suit, the unfamiliar balance of the blade Cas gave him knocking him off his rhythm for a second. He shifts it in his hands, going straight for Lilith. 

She's quick to notice him, and with a flick of her wrist, sends him crashing to the nearest wall. He groans as he stands, picking up the blade and going for Castiel's aid.

"You should help the humans, Dean." Castiel says, ducking as one of the demons swipes his knife, cutting clean through the air. Dean stabs it in the chest.

"Sam and Bobby are on it." Dean replies, stepping back as another blade slashes through his jacket, barely grazing his skin. He winces, the adrenaline pumping through his system fueling a new wave of anger. He dodges another slash, rolling over and stabbing the demon in his right calf and pulling the blade out as it collapses to the floor, only to shove it back into its throat. 

Lilith is seemingly unaffected by the events as she chants under her breath, pouring the vial of blood into a copper vessel with engravings along the rim. Sparks erupt from the hollow of the vessel, getting stronger as she keeps chanting. Dean makes another attempt to reach her, only to be stopped by more demons. 

He sees Ruby usher the girls out of the door, taken aback by the fact that she hadn't screwed them over or fled the scene yet. He locks eyes with Sam and mouths 'knife', hoping Sam would catch on. His brother nods, pulling out Ruby's demon knife and stabbing a few demons on his way before sliding it towards Dean, the sound of the metal scrapping over the gravel barely audible over the screams of dying demons. 

Dean switches the angel blade for the knife and slides the former back. Sam roundhouse kicks a demon in the stomach and picks up the blade as it slides past him, burying it to the hilt into the demon's chest. 

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas asks, tone showing no indication of tiredness. For a moment, Dean forgets he's literally in the middle of a fight as he stares at Cas in awe, watching the angel slam his blade up one demon's throat while smiting another with his bare hand. It's so fucking hot, for the first time in his life Dean considers seeing a shrink.

"Trust me, Cas." Dean doesn't look away until Cas' features relax. 

A loud explosion snaps him back into the present. He turns around to find a swirl of grey smoke surrounding Lilith like a hurricane, sparks of light erupting from around her. His blood runs cold.  Moments later, the world around Dean slows down, coming to a halt at the shrill scream coming from Lilith as a silver blade pokes out from behind her, passing clean through her stomach and the clatter of the copper vessel on the floor. Sam stands, clutching the bloody angel blade in his hand and Lilith's lifeless form crumbles to the ground.

  
  


******

The silence is unnerving. Everything around them seems to have come to a screeching halt. Lilith's lifeless vessel lays on the floor, right in the middle of a puddle of blood. Sam Winchester looks down at her, face morphed into an unreadable stoicism.

A hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

"Cas...what-" The telltale sound of wings drown Dean's next words as Zachariah and Uriel appear in front of them.

"Well well, perfect timing, Sam." Zachariah claps his hands together. "The final seal is broken."

"What?" Dean's grip on his shoulder tightens.

"We've come a full circle. Dean breaks the first seal and Sam breaks the last. How delightful."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean barks, taking a step forward.

"Dean," Castiel grounds him, wrapping his fingers around the hunter's wrist.

“Let him, Castiel.” Uriel says, “So we can crush him to dust right in front of you, traitor.”

Castiel's jaw clenches of its own violation, "You wouldn't dare."

“What do you mean I broke the final seal?” Sam asks, his voice a confused haze, “Lilith was the one who did it.”

“No, you fool.” Zachariah cackles. “Lilith  _ is  _ the final seal.”

Castiel feels the entire world crash down on him. The pieces of the big puzzle slowly fall into place. Lilith was the final sacrifice needed to release Lucifer. It dawns on him that it’s the very exact reason why Lilith surfaced right now; trusting Sam’s need for revenge as a way of ensuring her job gets done.

“What about the virgins?” Dean asks.

“The sixty fifth seal, the big prologue to the final sacrifice.” Zachariah says. 

“And you sons of bitches knew all this and did nothing to stop the goddamn apocalypse.” 

“Now now, you ape. Not all angels want to be humanity’s bitch boy like your Castiel over there.” Zachariah says, tone dripping acid. 

“We need to get out of here, Dean.” Castiel pulls him back by the elbow but Dean shrugs him off. 

“No, Cas. I can’t turn around and walk away from this.” Dean’s soul flares, waves of anger and resentment rolling off it. “You probably don’t care. Hell, you might even be a part of this whole fuckery.”

Dean’s words pierce like a dagger to his chest, all of his billion year old existence turning insignificant in that very moment. “I would never, Dean.”

“I can’t be sure, Cas.” Dean’s voice is cold, his soul pulling away from Castiel for the first time since he laid his hand on it in the burning pits of hell. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” He never considered he could feel such intense pain as he was experiencing at the moment, hearing the way Dean’s voice breaks as the man tries his best to hold onto the last bit of faith. 

Castiel pulls his eyes away from Dean, focusing his gaze on the current matter at hand. Uriel leans sideways, whispering something into Zachariah’s ears. The generally uncaring stupor falters as Zachariah tenses. Castiel follows his former superior’s eyes to where Lilith lay motionless. An important piece of the puzzle still seems to be missing.

“Lucifer has not risen.” Castiel says. “The devil is still caged.”

Zachariah stiffens, “Perhaps, there is some more time left.”

“No.” Castiel declares, following a hunch. “Lucifer would walk the Earth the moment the final seal breaks.”

Uriel does not keep composure as well as Zachariah. “What did you mud monkey’s do?”

“Holy crap.” Ruby exclaims. “She did pop the cherry.”

“What?” Sam stares at her.

“The girl, Sam.”

“The sixty fifth seal never broke.” Dean says. “Because the sacrifices needed the blood of six virgins and apparently Lilith made a lousy mistake.”

“No, this cannot be happening.” 

Castiel has enough experience with his superiors to know Zachariah’s next move.  He grabs Dean, Sam and Bobby just as Zachariah and Uriel snap their fingers, missing the possibility of his friends turning into dust by mere seconds. 

"Son of a bitch." Dean pants. "What the fuck just happened?"

"I don't know." Sam slurs. "What the hell."

"Where on God's green Earth are we?" Bobby asks.

"India." Castiel says, and adds when Dean stares at him strangely, "It was an emergency and I panicked."

He flies again, this time landing in the middle of Bobby Singer's living room.

"Now that's it." Bobby says.

"Castiel, do you have any clue what just happened?" Sam asks, "That whole thing about Lilith being the last seal…"

"Yes, Sam. It is the only possible explanation." Cas replies. "She is cunning and wouldn't have put herself in the path of danger if it wasn't absolutely what she wanted to happen."

“You sure Lucifer didn’t escape?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods, “I would be able to sense it if it had happened.”

"I almost started the apocalypse." Sam says, barely a whisper.

Castiel doesn't know how to provide comfort to Sam, so he leaves that job to Dean, part of the reason being he couldn't stand the way Dean looked at him, or rather refused to look at him. Some part of him knew that he didn't have a place on Earth, let alone in Dean's life. Whatever fleeting moment of happiness they had was nothing but a hoax, another painful memory in this fickle universe.

He shakes his head, clearing the thoughts away from his mind as he walks around the house, engraving warding sigils allowing entry only to him, a small part of him still hoping that he would be welcome back. He should not be feeling this dejected but the thought of being away from Dean for even a fleeting moment tears him apart in ways he has never experienced before.

He stops in his tracks when he senses Dean's soul.

"Cas," Dean stays a few steps away, the distance between them feeling strange and disheartening. "I just wanted to...back there-"

"I understand, Dean." Castiel cuts in, "I have a few tasks to accomplish, I will be leaving now."

As he flies away, for the very first time he doesn't look back.

  
  


******

The apocalypse was stopped because some girl decided she had it enough and had sex, it’s fucking hilarious in retrospect. For a second, things felt like they were finally falling into place, but for Dean, one problem ends right at the tail of another.

“Sammy, it’s over.” Dean says to his brother, who's sitting on the couch, deep in thought. “You almost screwed the pooch but due to some sheer dumb luck, Satan’s still locked up and the world is not gonna end.”

“How’s that supposed to make things better, Dean?” Sam barks, “It was a chance I shouldn’t have taken.” 

“I never told you what happened in hell,” Dean says, after a beat of silence, “I tortured souls, Sam. I tortured thousands of souls, tore them apart without batting an eye. And the shittiest part about all of it was, I knew I had to stop but I couldn’t...not until Cas…” He swallows down the lump in his throat and continues. “My point is, I didn’t know what I had ahead of me so I ended up doing the thing that made the most sense, even when I knew how fucked up it was.”

Sam stares at him, eyes glassy, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” He shudders, “That’s what Cas was talking about, you breaking the first seal.”

“Yeah.” Dean rubs a hand across his face, barely making any effort to try and hide the quiver in his voice. “I’m not trying to justify what I did but if we let all the crap we did eat us up, we’ll lose it, Sam.” He says, “And we can’t afford to lose our minds. There’s so much evil in this world and all we can do is hope that the people we save will make up for our shitty mistakes.” He wonders if Cas would have been proud of him for owning up to himself, but he dropped the ball on that one too many times.

“I’m gonna go try and get some sleep, just don’t wake me up until it’s ㅡ _God forbid_ ㅡ another apocalypse or something.” Sam says, “And hey, talk to Cas. That’s one thing you can fix.”

“Yeah." Dean nods, and adds, "Sammy, Cas and I…”

Cas and Dean, now that's one funny story. He doesn't know where he and Cas are, considering Dean just insulted him after everything he did for them. He doesn't even know if Cas will come back and from where he stands, Dean can't blame him. Poor angel got stuck with one of the most fucked up people on this planet and it was only a matter of time before Cas decides he had enough and fucking booked it.

Sam just waves his hand, “I know, Dean. If a guy rebels against his family and throws away all his billion year old convictions for one guy, I can guess there’s something there.” 

“You're full of shit.” Dean manages a grin. 

“I know.” Sam huffs a laugh. “Good night.”

“‘Night.”

As the night goes colder and the hours fly by, Dean decides that he’s tired of giving up. For this once, he’s going to try to hold on. 

“Cas, I hope you’re listening.” Dean prays, “I know I fucked up, because that’s who I am ㅡ a giant colossal fuck up. But, I don’t wanna lose you, man. I’ve lost so much and it scares the crap out of me to hope anything in my life would stay. I don’t know how much I mean to you, but after everything we’ve been through, you’re still my family, Cas. Please, I need you here.”

The silence that follows crushes his soul, everything around him too blurry and suffocating. When he shuts the front door behind him, Dean feels almost like himself, sneaking out into a bar for some cheep whiskey and a meaningless fuck. He feels stupid for thinking an angel of the Lord who knows all about the six feet one inch of selfishness and worthlessness that Dean Winchester is, would wan’t anything to do with him. Then again, that momentary happiness felt so goddamn good. It’s too late now as he realizes he wasn’t prepared for when it all came crashing down on him.

  
  


******

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I am a day late. Hope you enjoy

### Chapter 10

_ "Let the way you love be the loudest thing about you." _

  
  


Castiel waits in the playground as instructed, remembering not to observe the children too intently, as Dean had mentioned it was inappropriate social behavior.

"Castiel." 

"Ambriel, it's good to see you." He greets. "I'm trusting you to be here without any ulterior motives."

"You can trust me, brother." Ambriel says, his tone constricted. "I am compromising my loyalties here. I understand there is something you need to discuss."

"Indeed." Castiel replies, relaxing but not letting his guard down. "I know I cannot ask you to reveal any confidential information, but I need you to tell me what is heaven's condition at present."

"Vast majority of heaven is in chaos, Castiel." Ambriel replies. "If you are intending to fix heaven and lead the angels, I suggest you dispose of the idea. The orders are to exterminate you the moment you set foot in heaven."

"That does not scare me, brother." Castiel says. "I do not intend to take upon any duties. Heaven is compromised, yet there remain good angels who want to serve their true purposes."

"You are not wrong, Castiel." Ambriel sighs dejectedly. "But, there is absolutely nothing you or I can do about it."

"There is always something to be done, brother."

Ambriel's expression stiffens. "I have to leave, Castiel." He says, "I hope we never meet again."

Castiel sighs, looking up at the sky for answers he is never going to find.

_ Cas, I hope you’re listening.  _

Dean's voice echoes in his head.

_ I know I fucked up, because that’s who I am. A giant colossal fuck up. But, I don’t wanna lose you, man. I’ve lost so much and it scares the crap out of me to hope anything in my life would stay. I don’t know how much I mean to you, but after everything we’ve been through, you’re still my family, Cas. Please, I need you here. _

Dean doesn't really need him, Castiel knows that. As much as he admires Dean, the hunter runs on pure adrenaline and spite. His actions are impulsive and self destructive, an act elicited from a moment of weakness. Castiel does not want to hurt Dean, and a selfish part of himself does not want his hopes to be raised and further broken into shards. Yet, he finds himself flying, following the calling of Dean's soul. 

He can't deny Dean anything.

He spots the glow of Dean's soul in a bar a little further from his house. This time, it doesn't register Castiel's presence as he watches Dean smile at the waitress. It confuses him how Dean's soul is whimpering while his expression says a different story. Dean Winchester is a mystery.

"I could wait until your shift is done, sweetheart." Dean says to the waitress. 

She smiles at him, "You're hammered, handsome. And clearly out here for a rebound." She says. "But I'd be dumb to say no."

Dean doesn't say anything, his eyes unfocused as though his mind is away from where he is. "Fuck." He breathes, "I'm sorry, I can't do this."

"Figured." She says, handing Dean a glass of water. "Drink this and go fix whatever that's gotten you so messed up. Something tells me it's not too late." 

Dean laughs, it’s not the familiar sound that Castiel has come to adore, but something tired and distant. “You have no idea.” He says and empties the glass of water before walking out of the door. Castiel follows silently, watching Dean stumble on his feet as he crosses the parking lot to his car. 

“You know what, Cas. Fuck you!” Dean shouts to the empty road ahead of him. “I really wanna say I hate you but you just always know when I’m lying. So, you can go fuck yourself.” Castiel never once thought he could adore Dean anymore than he already did, but Dean keeps proving him wrong. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cas.” The words are barely a whisper but Castiel doesn’t miss them. 

“Dean,” He places a hand on the hunter’s shoulder, trying not to startle him. “Let me take you back home.”

Dean blinks back at him. “You came back.”

“Of course, Dean.” He cups Dean’s face gently. “I’m sorry I left.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath before he pulls Castiel into a hug, his grip almost painful on Castiel’s back. “Don’t.” Dean mumbles against the crook of his neck. 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Dean pulls away, red rimmed eyes locking with his. “Just hit me or throw me into a fucking wall, but don’t apologize. You’ve been nothing but good to me.”

“I would never hurt you, Dean.” Castiel replies, carefully wrapping his arms around Dean. “Yet, you are hurting now and I understand it’s because of me.”

“You don’t understand squat.” Dean says, eyes glassy. “You don’t have to act like you're fine with this, Cas. I’m not worth all of this.”

Castiel hates that he can feel the way Dean’s heart aches. “You’re worth everything, Dean.” Castiel says, “All my life I didn’t dare question the morality of my actions. It was you who came along and showed me I have the liberty to make my own decisions and fight for what is right, and in that moment I knew you outweighed everything else.”

“Just stop it, Cas.” There are tears in those green eyes, his words coming out in a broken plea. “Please.”

“Why do you keep pushing me away, Dean?” 

“Because I’m falling in love with you!” Dean shouts. “I hate that I’m saying this in the empty parking lot of a crappy bar but I’m falling in love with you and it scares the shit out of me. Every time you leave I don’t even know if you’ll come back alive, and I can’t live with the thought of losing you. When everything else is going to crap, you still manage to make me happy, Cas.” He says. “I don’t want to be broken anymore.”

All the languages he knows and Castiel is still at a loss of words. 

“Dean.” He lifts his hands, wiping the tears off the man’s face. “You’re the farthest from broken. I know you don’t believe me, but I am willing to spend the rest of my days trying to convince you.” He says. “I don’t know what qualifies as love, but I want to be with you. I want to kiss you and lay down next to you as you fall asleep. I want to make you happy, Dean. I want to be there when you find the need for someone to turn to with your worries.”

Dean gives him a watery laugh, “I’m no expert but I guess that’s love.”

“Then, I love you.” Castiel says. “I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. It terrified me too, because in one way or another, the feeling is foreign to both of us. But, now I know there is nothing else in the universe that compares to you. I promise to be by your side as long as you will have me.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, "Cas... you're an angel." 

"A broken excuse for one," Castiel huffs a laugh. "If anything, I'm the one who does not deserve-" 

When Dean rushes forward and kisses him, it’s desperate and full of passion, all the words that he couldn’t say poured into it. Dean pulls away, only so little that their breaths still mingle in the space between their mouths.

“Can this be the part where things start getting better?” He asks, his hands cupping Castiel's cheek.

“I’m not sure.” Castiel says truthfully. “The only promise I can make is to never let you feel alone. Not now, not ever.” 

He pulls Dean’s lips to meet his, feeling the way Dean tenses in his arms and the tug of his soul on Castiel’s grace. They kiss for long enough that Castiel feels the itch for more under his skin. He rolls his hips forward experimentally, feeling Dean’s length against his. Dean moans softly into the kiss and pulls back.

“Slow your roll, cowboy.” He laughs and presses another kiss to his lips, this time soft and chaste. “Let's go home.”

******

When Dean wakes up, the first thing he sees is blue. He remembers the day he crawled out of his own coffin and seeing the blue sky for the first time in a long time. This is so much better.

"Stop staring, Cas." He croaks. "It's weird."

"It feels nice to watch you sleep." Cas replies. "It's one of the times you look relaxed."

"I'm sorry." Dean finds himself saying. "You were probably busting your ass upstairs while I was being a whiny bitch."

Cas smiles, and that's the single best thing that makes Dean believe in God. "When I'm running away from heaven's problems, I'm glad it's you I am coming back to." 

"Kiss me," Is all Dean can say. He wraps his arms around Cas' neck and pulls him down into a kiss, every nerve in his body tingling, almost as if Cas' lips are sealing the giant gaping hole in Dean's chest. It feels so right. Their impromptu makeout session ends when Dean's traitorous stomach lets out a growl, and he groans, rolling back on his elbows, "I need food."

"Your body is lacking enough nutrients." Cas says. 

"There's lettuce in burgers. That's nutrients." He kisses Cas again before climbing out of bed.

Sam seems to be doing better than yesterday, but Dean knows his brother well enough to know how much of it is pretend and how much is not.

"I got you something called a Mega Burgernator." Sam holds up a packet. "If it kills you, I'm not responsible."

"Here for a good time, Samuel." He grabs the packet and sniffs, the smell of bacon and cheese and a bunch of other things he hopes is edible filling his nostrils. 

He chews down the first half of the burger, groaning at the feel of one of the two most delicious things he's ever had in his mouth, the other sitting right next to him. He grins at Cas, not sure if it's adoration or disappointment on the angel's face.

Cas raises two fingers and presses it to his forehead.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean asks between chews.

"I was lowering your already high blood cholesterol levels to reduce the risk of an impending heart attack." Cas says, like it's just the daily weather newscast.

Dean swallows, "You can do that?"

"You shouldn't have told him, Cas." Sam groans, "He's not going to stop eating junk food from now on."

"I can prevent any health issues while Dean can continue enjoying the food he likes." Cas says. "I don't see anything wrong with that."

"There is nothing wrong with that.” Dean almost feels bad for fucking with Cas, but burgers are burgers.

"What's your next plan, Cas?" Sam asks.

"I'm not sure." Cas says. "I contacted one of the angels and he informed me that heaven is in chaos."

"You're not going back there." Dean spits out before he can think. "I mean, we barely escaped those assholes."

"I don't think I can, Dean." Cas reassures him. "Though, I cannot ignore how heaven is falling apart under Zachariah's compromised ruling."

"Zach will come looking for us." Dean says. "We can help you deal with them, Cas."

"I can't let you do that. It's too dangerous."

"Exactly my point, Cas." Dean says, raising his voice to establish his point. It always works like a charm. "I can't let you die either."

"Dean has a point." Sam supplies. "It's better if we stick together."

Cas sighs, “I cannot make choices for you.” He says. “Although, you both deserve some rest after everything that has happened.”

“Now that's fair. Any cases, Sammy?”

“I thought you wanted a break.”

“Exactly.” Dean wipes his hand on a napkin, balling up the paper bag in his hand. “A regular hunt, maybe a vamp or a ghost. That’s a good break.”

“Well, nothing on the internet.” Sam says, “There was an article about a-  _ Cas? _ ”

Dean snaps his eyes to the angel, who’s clutching his head with a pained expression on his face.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” He cups the angel’s face over his hands, “Look at me, angel.”

“Murder.” Cas whispers. “I have to go.”

_Yeah, that about sums up their lives._

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My brothers and sisters are being murdered, Dean. I need to be there for my brethren.” Cas pulls away from his touch. “I need to leave now.”

“Did you not hear me? You’re not going back to heaven.” Dean barks, “So what if those dickbags are dying? They did nothing but hurt you.”

“These are good angels, Dean.” Cas snaps. “If Zachariah is killing them, I cannot turn my back.”

“I’m coming with you, then.” 

“No.” Cas springs on his feet. “I’m not sure about the severity of conditions in heaven. Please, let me do this. I will take you with me when it’s safe.”

Dean takes Cas’ hand in his, not giving a flying fuck if Sam’s watching or not. “You made a promise, better keep that.”

“I will, Dean.” Cas drags him forward with a hand behind his neck and presses a slow but deep kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, “I...uh...” His words die out in the sound of wings flapping, where Cas stood merely a second ago, now empty.

“I wasn’t even here.” Sam says, half spooked out and half smiling. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Well, I’m not. Not when he’s running off every few minutes into God knows what fights.” Dean heads for the fridge to grab a beer. 

“He’s an angel, Dean. You can’t keep him cooped up here. I mean, would you like if he asks you not to go on hunts?”

Dean doesn’t know how to balance his logic and feelings, so he takes a long pull from his beer, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, feeling Cas’ lips still ghosting over it, “So, what's this article about?”

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy deancas anniversary in advance, y'all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been one of my favorite chapters to write. Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 11

_ Weave your web of misery, for survival is your poison." _

  
  


Castiel leads the group of angels into clearing flanking the personal heavens, hoping the powers of human souls would help mask their presence.

"Ambriel, do you know where Camael and Hebbah have situated their troops?"

"West and North West, respectively," Ambriel replies. "Those are the two points which give us direct access to Zachariah's base. Tamoah has joined angels from the other two troops to retrieve our fellow siblings' vessels."

Castiel's eyes snap up to Ambriel's face, "That won't go well, brother." He says, "We do not want to lose any more of our kin."

"It's our duty to honor the departed, Castiel." Ambriel snaps. He sighs deeply, shoulders dropping. "I understand your concerns, but we have lost a lot of our kind in retrieving the righteous man from hell. We couldn't honor them properly. We cannot do that this time."

At the mention of Dean, Castiel caves.

"You're right." Castiel draws in a breath, expanding his wingspan. "Take two of our men and split into groups of four. Send one group to the west to meet their troop halfway to retrieve the vessels." He instructs. “Rest of it shall happen as we planned. I am trusting you to take charge of the factions.”

“Yes, Castiel. I shall not let you down.” Ambriel nods, a slow build of concern in his expression. "What are you going to do?"

Castiel twists the angel blade in his hand, feeling the cold metal shifting its weight to find the right balance. "I'm going to find Zachariah."

******

_ Dean wiggles his toes, the sand between them ticklish but not uncomfortable. He slides back against the tanning bed, resting his head on it. The beach around him is empty, the only sign of life being a tiny fiddler crab crawling its way towards the water; sea foam making its journey hard.  _

_ The sky is blue and so is the water, but none of those are as blue as Castiel's eyes. He grabs the margarita from the table next to him, taking a small sip. It doesn't taste as raw as it always does. _

_ "Hello, Dean." _

_ Dean looks up, confused at what Cas is doing here. Soon, relief takes over, knowing the angel is fine.  _

_ "Is this real?" He asks. _

_ "Well, the scenario is not but me being here is." _

_ "So, you're alright." Dean states, with a sigh. "Also, why are you not dressed for the beach?"  _

_ When he blinks open his eyes the next time, Castiel is in a pair of orange Hawaiian shorts, exposing his hot legs and beautifully tanned torso. _

_ "What the…" _

_ Cas looks down at himself. "This is your dream, Dean. You see what you wish to see." _

_ "Awesome. I could make you naked."  _

_ Cas laughs, it's only for a fraction of a second but Dean feels like he just witnessed a trillion sunrises at once. "If you wish to, then yes." _

_ "As much as I would love to, you came here to tell me something." Dean says using his upstairs brain. "Don't think that's what's gonna happen if you're naked." _

_ He lifts his hand, reaching for Cas. The angel steps closer, sitting on the edge of the tanning bed. "I wanted to let you know what is happening in heaven." He says, eyes focused on the vast expanse of the ocean ahead of them. "More than half of the angels have realized the faulty ruling Zachariah has been conducting. _ **_”_ **

_ Dean grins, “So, you got people on your side?” _

_ “Indeed.” Cas nods. “There has been constant attacks from both sides, considerably weakening the forces, though more damage is on Zachariah's side. Even if their forces are weakened, we cannot let our guard down. It’s only a matter of time before another ambush strikes.”  _

_ Dean fiddles with Castiel's fingers in his hand. "Fuck, Cas...I wish I could help." He pulls the angel back flush against his chest.  _

_ "I know you want to, Dean. I will take you. But right now, I have to assign a few safety precautions before I get back to Earth." He says, "The angels are now placed securely in all locations where an attack can be expected. It’s peaceful for now but I cannot let that blind me.” _

_ Dean presses a kiss to the angel’s shoulder, feeling the muscles relax under the touch. “My hero.” He whispers, content no one is there to judge him if he’s being a little sappy. It’s his dream. “You’re doing the right thing, Cas.” _

_ “I owe it to the universe.” Cas replies. “I just wanted you to know that I will never let you down.” _

_ "You couldn't even if you tried, angel." Dean mouths against his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you. And I bet God is too. You're doing what he wanted all his kids to do, Cas." _

_ "That's the belief I'm relying on." _

_ Dean closes his eyes, inhaling all the senses surrounding him. When he opens his eyes again, it's pitch darkness. He shakes his head, the beach shimmering into existence before him. _

_ "You're waking up, Dean." Cas says. "I will leave now." _

_ "Wait." He leans forward, meeting the Cas' lips in a deep kiss. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow down even in a dream. He pulls back, putting on his best brave face for the sake of his angel. "I need you back in one piece, okay?" _

_ "Okay."  _

_ The beach dissolves around him, slow waves of darkness taking its place. _

******

The doors to heaven's main office is surrounded by angels of various garrisons ㅡ Castiel's own including ㅡ guarding the building. Castiel draws his blade, calculating the chances of this fight ending in favor for him as slim to none. The guards spot him but do not make any motions for attack. They merely part ways, letting him walk into what is clearly a trap. Castiel has done a few questionable things in his life in the name of serving what he thought to be his father’s interests. This one time, it’s different. He’s here to do what is right and dying is only secondary. His mind wanders back to Dean for a moment, wishing he could see him one last time.

“Well well, if it isn’t heaven’s most wanted.” Castiel turns around, his grip on the blade tightening. 

“Raguel.” He regards his former second in command. “Where is Zachariah?”

“Oh, we’ve got someone better for you.” She says, turning on her heels and walking towards the conference room. “Follow me.”

Castiel takes his steps forward cautiously, anticipating an attack any moment. He folds his wings closer, widening his field of vision. The door to the room opens, a single chair in the middle now occupied.

“Castiel.” The man regards him with a hesitant smile. “Welcome home.”

“Raphael.” He’s surely taken aback by the untimely arrival of the Archangel, but he cannot afford to get distracted. “What brings you here?”

“You, Castiel.” Raphael says. “You stopped the apocalypse and turned heaven into factions fighting against each other.”

“Even now, you don’t seem to consider the fact we angels who are meant to protect the humans are trying to plot their destruction in the name of petty grievances.”

“Our aim is to destroy the devil once and for all, Castiel.” Raphael says. “You have turned a large part of our kind in your favor. This needs to end.”

“Unlike you, I haven’t forced any of my decisions up on anyone, Raphael.” Castiel spits out. “Whoever might be fighting against you, it’s by their own choice. You couldn’t have thought the entire angel kind would blindly follow the plan for wiping out the human race.”

“If you displayed a fraction of your loyalty towards heaven as much as you did to those hairless apes, you would have seen the reason behind our decision.”

“Those hairless apes you talk about are much more worthy than any angel could possibly imagine to be.” Castiel snaps, anger boiling white in him. “You preach protecting the word of God yet turn against his creation.” 

“You are a brave soldier, Castiel.” Raphael sneers, words controlled. “If you give up and rally the stray factions in our favor, we will forgive you. Perhaps, offer you a good position. It’s your choice to make.”

“Bribery, this is what heaven has come to.” Castiel scoffs. “In the words of a good friend,  _ go to hell _ .”

Raphael smirks, eyes glowering with hatred. “You have crossed a line, Castiel. You will pay for this.”

“I do not cover from my enemies, Raphael.” Castiel sneers, “Unlike Zachariah and his companions. Where ever are they?”

“Zachariah has been indisposed.” Raphael says. “He does not control matters anymore, I do. It would be only suitable for you to join forces with me.”

Castiel laughs, vicious. “Perhaps, it would be suitable for  _ you _ . If you weren’t in need of my help, you would not be here begging for me to join your side. In fact, I would not even be alive.” He twists his blade in his hand, the urge to slam it into the Archangel’s chest overwhelmingly huge, even when it would do no damage. “As long as my essence remains, I will not let you tamper with humanity like it’s your plaything.”

Raphael’s face twists into a scowl. He opens his mouth to say something but the door swings open and Raguel walks in, followed by Nathaniel. 

“West and North West have been cleared out and our East defenses are dropping.” Raguel swallows. “We need more forces.” 

Castiel smiles, the relief of knowing his plan worked as intended.

Raphael straightens up. “Drop the defenses and retreat.” He says, glowering over at Castiel. “This is not over, brother. You cannot keep fighting against the host’s commands.”

“If you are fearing a civil war, Raphael,” Castiel fixes the archangel with a glare. “It has already begun."

  
  


******

“Dean, you here?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He looks back and forth between Bobby and Sam. “Okay, sure.”

“What?” Sam asks, “Did you even hear what we said?”

“Rugaru in Wisconsin. I heard." 

"Ghoul in Michigan, but close enough." Bobby says. "You okay, boy?"

"Yeah." Dean throws his head into his hands, his elbows propped up on the desk. "No."

Sam slides his book shut, "Did you even sleep since Cas left?" 

"Just mind your own business, Sammy." Dean snaps. "What’s the details of the case?”

Sam eyes him carefully, “Travis was in the area and he’s on it.” He says, “Literally what we were talking about five minutes ago.”

“Right. Anything else?”

“Zilch.” Bobby says. The phone rings and he walks off to answer it.

“Dean, did you try praying to him?”

Dean rolls his eyes, making sure Sam sees the reaction to his dumb question. “Why Sam, never thought of it.” He mocks. “What a genius idea.”

“Stop being a dick, I’m just trying to help.”

Dean did pray to Cas, not once, not twice, but enough times that he’s lost count.

“It’s been days since I even heard a peep from him.” Cas always showed up when Dean called, but not this time. Not when he desperately wants to know if the angel is fine. Dean feels his heart crumble into dust at the thought of something happening to Cas. Every good thing in his life gets pulled away from under his feet over and over again. Maybe Alastair was right, he’s fucked up to the point where there’s no fixing.

“I'm sure he's fine." Sam says, for Dean's sake.

“He’s supposed to be back by now.” He swallows down, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. “This fucking sucks. Just find a case. I need to get out of here or I will stab someone.”

“Apparently, all monsters seem to have gone on a vacation ‘cause the papers are empty, so is the internet.”

Dean sighs, not bothering to hide his frustration. “I’m taking Baby for a drive, call me when you find something.”

Dean spends the next two nights muddled up in random bars, drinking and hustling pool. It’s the most useful he can be anyway. In those little nanoseconds long moments of clarity between the next sip of whiskey going down his throat, Dean’s mind is hit with waves of fear and restlessness seeping into every pore, making him want to empty his guts out. He’s so terrified, he can’t bring himself to slip on his familiar mask of bravado even around Bobby or Sam. Though he feels like a clingy, ungrateful piece of shit, whining even when he's lucky enough to call an angel of the Lord _his,_ Dean can’t help but be selfish. He has lost so much, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle...  _ fuck. _

“Trouble in paradise?” The bartender ㅡ a short, gruff looking guy with tired eyes and a nervous smile ㅡ asks, setting his drink in front of him.

“There’s no paradise, dude.” Dean slurs, downing his whiskey. 

“Sounds like you have been through hell,” The guy comments, fast and with a nervous laugh. “Things happen for a reason, Dean.”

His name snaps his attention back to the guy, and he asks in a low growl, “Who the hell are you?”

“You know me just like I know you, Dean,” The guy shrugs, flinching away, only minutely. “You’re a regular here.”

“Huh, never noticed, I guess,” Dean shrugs. “No offense.”

The guy chuckles halfheartedly, “None taken. You seem like you complicate things more than you need to.”

“Should’ve been a shrink instead.” Dean offers.

“I don’t need to,” he says. “You might think it’s never going to get better, but everything happens for a reason.”

Dean laughs mirthlessly, “What are you gonna say next, God works in mysterious ways?”

“His ways might not be mysterious, but they sure are worth all the build up.” 

“Whatever.” Dean rolls his eyes, throwing a few bills on the counter and stalking out of the bar.

Dean drives back home somewhere past two, sweating whiskey but mind not numb enough for it to stop hurting. He walks in through the front door, eyes cast on the floor, avoiding all the creaky floorboards from his memory. Few steps in and he slams into something ㅡ _someone_ ㅡ and his heart skips several fucking beats at once. 

“Cas?” 

  
******


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for smut.

### Chapter 12

_ "Violence for violence is the rule of beasts." _

“Thank fucking Christ.” He breaths, a slideshow of the worst scenarios possible flickering through his brain. “You okay?”

Cas nods, “Are you okay, Dean?”

Dean loses it at that.

“You stupid son of a bitch!” Dean pulls him into a hug so hard, if the guy was human, it’d have hurt a good deal. He grabs Cas by his wrist and drags him into his room, not wanting to wake Sam and Bobby with their private chick flick. “I thought you were dead. Where the hell were you?”

“Organizing the angels took longer than expected. Zachariah’s faction authorized an unexpected attack before they dropped their forces and retreated. We lost a few of us.” 

Dean feels his stomach clench at the hurt panning across Cas' face, but now that he's started yelling, he can't stop, so he asks, “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I wanted to make sure my brothers and sisters were safe so I could see you again soon.”

Dean doesn’t know if he should cry or rip his hair out. He was prepared to live his life knowing he would never be able to tell Cas everything that’s been stuck in his chest for months. Never see him, never touch him, never let him know how much Cas means to him. Now there he was, standing in front of him and none of those thousand things are said again as he cups Castiel’s face and pulls him into a kiss, pouring everything he knows and doesn’t know about his own feelings into it. 

“Don’t fucking do that ever again.” He says between kisses, the angel still stiff under his touch. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Only a minor damage to my alula” Cas says into the space between their mouths.

“What the hell's that?”

“The feathers on the upper part of my wings.” Cas replies.

"Well, that's good you stupid fucking chicken of the Lord," Dean huffs a breathy laugh. "If anything else would've happened to you..."

Cas cocks his head, “Are you not angry at me?”

“No, dumbass. I’m fucking relieved.” Dean kisses him again, trying to get the angel to loosen up. “I didn’t hear from you for five whole days and you were in the middle of a war. It’s just... you scared the shit out of me.” 

“You were yelling and then you kissed me. I thought…” Cas trails off, eyes focused somewhere over Dean’s shoulder. “Your reactions are often confusing.”

Dean laughs, slightly tilting his face to meet his eyes. “Should’ve thought when you signed up for this, Cas.” He says. “I’m not mad at you. I just wanted you to be okay.”

"I'm sorry." Cas sounds so tired, it breaks his heart.

Dean shakes his head, "Me too."

He can visibly see the tension drain out of the angel even in the darkness, something else taking its place. This time when Cas kisses him, it’s nothing short of insanely hot and mind-blowing. It’s honest and desperate, his fingers sliding into the short strands at the back of Dean’s head, tugging lightly, making him moan into the kiss.

“Get on the bed.” Cas practically commands and Dean’s legs are on its way even before he can process the thought. Dean climbs onto the bed and Cas follows, crawling on top of him like he’s going to eat him alive. It sends a thrill down Dean’s spine, his downstairs brain kicking into action. Cas tugs at the hem of Dean’s shirt and lifts it over his head, chucking it to the floor. Dean pulls off his tie and coat in one swift motion, while using his free hand to tug the angel down into a kiss. Cas doesn’t stop at his mouth, dropping down to the column of his neck, mouthing against the skin, his hands working on the button of Dean’s jeans. Dean bucks his hips up, trying to find the friction he so desperately craves. 

“Cas,  _ fuck. _ ” Dean’s fingers work on Cas’ shirt buttons distractedly, searching for any and all the skin he can find. Cas pulls off from his neck to tug his jeans and boxers down before doing the same with his own. Even in the darkness, Dean can see the lust blown look on Castiel's face, staring down at Dean like he’s a piece of candy. It feels too surreal; an angel of the Lord buck naked over him. Dean lets out a whimper under the scrutiny, grabbing Cas’ arms and pulling him down on top of him.

“Dean.” Cas breathes against his lips, grinding his hard length against Dean’s own, the friction pulling a deep groan out of his throat. Dean snakes a hand out and searches around for the bottle inside the drawer of the nightstand, grabbing it and tossing it at Cas. The angel pulls back, looking back and forth between him and the bottle.

“Are you sure?” He asks, all hushed and slow, like every other time he asked something of Dean. The thought of it makes his heart rattle in his chest like rocks in a tin can, every time Castiel said he cared about Dean’s happiness, it was all real. Dean wills his thoughts back to the angel looming over him.

“Put your dick in me right now or-” His words are cut off by a kiss so mindless, Dean struggles to breath and he can't even find in himself to complain. Their lips move around, warm and content, fitting right into each other. Cas doesn’t hesitate licking into Dean’s mouth like he owns the damn thing, making Dean moan softly in the back of his throat. Cas is altogether a different person, desperate and demanding as fuck, and Dean is far too gone, he’d let the angel have anything he wants. If he dies right now, he'll be happy as ever. 

“Hurry, Cas or I’m gonna come…” He pants, fisting his hands into the sheets to stop himself from bucking up against the pressure of Cas’ body. 

"You're gorgeous, Dean." Cas mutters against his chest, flicking his tongue over a nipple. Dean's soul nearly jumps out of his bed and his body, a guttural moan escaping his chest. "So lovely like this. And, I wouldn't even know how to describe your soul…it's breathtaking."

"Cas, shit... fuck me." He pants, all sense of dignity out of the window. Not eloquent as the angel's words but good enough considering how horny he is. Cas ㅡ _the_ _absolute fucker_ ㅡ grins against his skin, nipping at the hard nub of his nipple and soothing with his tongue. His hands run up and down his thigh, soft and gentle compared to the nipping and biting he's doing with his mouth. "I need you."

The angel stills at that. Finally,  _ fucking finally _ , he grabs the bottle of lube, pouring a few drops onto his fingers like they’re World War soldiers rationing food.

Dean chuckles. “You’re gonna need more than that, Cas.” He lifts a hand and strokes the angel’s jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble on his fingers.

“Oh.” Cas whispers, voice hoarse and gravely, even more so than usual. He pours more lube onto his fingers. With this free hand, Cas grips his hip, stroking over the bone there. “Turn over.”

Dean rolls onto his stomach, groaning when his long abandoned dick drags against the sheets. It's a moment of shifting mattresses and labored breathing before a wet finger presses against his hole, tugging at the muscle but not pushing in. Dean arches, hands tangled in the sheets as he cants back against the touch, wanting more.

"Come on, angel." Dean chokes out, his face growing hotter. "I won't break."

Dean gasps when Cas pushes in a digit, dripping more lube on his hole and making him shiver slightly. Cas' hands are all over him and still not enough. Dean reminds himself to breath, overwhelmed by all the electricity coursing through his veins. He pushes back against Cas fingers, dragging his cock on the sheets. He feels a soft kiss pressed to the nape of his neck. Dean sighs, looking over his shoulder to catch those blue eyes, visible even in the darkness.

"Is this okay?" Cas asks, a single digit sliding in and out of him. 

"Perfect, Cas." Dean says, his heart filling up with so many emotions he's not in a position to process. So he mutters the next best thing. "Kiss me."

Cas doesn't hesitate a second before finding his lips in a heady kiss, the drag of his fingers making him moan into the angel's mouth. The angle is weird and Dean’s slowly losing his mind, so he presses his face back to the pillow feeling the way Cas pushes in another finger.

"Shit, there. Fuck.  _ Jesus."  _ It's just a bunch of incoherent litany of curses and begging that's falling from his tongue. 

"You're everything I never knew I wanted." Cas whispers against the shell of his ear, and  _ dammit,  _ Dean is dead and gone to heaven.

Cas seems to be enjoying this a little too much, so Dean decides to take matters into his own hands. He turns around, whimpering at the abrupt loss of Cas’ fingers. He pulls the angel down by the neck into a filthy kiss, before flipping them and straddling his thighs.

“Dean…” Cas pants, leaning back against the headboard. Dean grins at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He takes Cas in his hand, slicking him up and flicking his thumb across the slit. Cas thrusts his hips forward, soft gasps escaping his chest. Dean rises on his knees, positioning Cas against his hole and slowly lowers himself, the blunt end of the cock rubbing against his rim, making him groan. Strong hands fall on his hip, guiding him down ever so slowly until Cas is fully inside him. He leans forward, the motion burying him further in Dean, and kisses him. 

“Oh, Dean…” Cas murmurs against his lips. Dean responds with a roll of his hips, forcing another moan out of him. Cas gasps, his grip on Dean’s hip tightening. "That feels so good."

Dean lets out a chuckle that turns into a moan as he lifts off Cas' cock almost completely before slamming back down, the sensation bordering between pain and pleasure, the sting something he enjoys a little more than he dares to admit. 

"Fuck, Cas...you feel amazing." There's not a bit of lie there. The feeling of Cas inside him is way more intense than any of the good number of fantasies he's ever had. And over all of it, Cas looks absolutely debauched even in the darkness, eyes hooded and lips kiss bruised. It's the hottest damn thing he's ever seen.

He raises his hips and slams down again a few more times before Cas comes back to his senses. He clutches Dean's hips and flips them over and just fucking goes to town. Dean fists the sheets, meeting Castiel's thrusts halfway, as he nails his prostate repeatedly, the angle brutally perfect.

" _ Oh...oh.  _ Yes…" There should be a law against the noises falling out of the angel's mouth. He drops his head on Dean's shoulder, sucking on the curve of his neck. A hand wraps around his cock, stroking at a fast pace, and Dean's hips stutter, groaning as Cas thrusts deeper into him. "Come for me, Dean."

"Holy fucking-" Dean groans loud enough that his cheeks feel like they're on fire, spilling into the Cas' fist in an instant, the orgasm hitting him in ways he didn't see coming. He sees stars and maybe a bunch of planets too, he's not sure. 

"I'm close, Dean…" Cas pants against his chest, his trusts falling off rhythm as he slams into Dean, completely lost in the moment. He hooks his legs around Cas' waist, hauling him closer, one hand cupping his face and the other grabbing his ass. Cas moans something close to his name, lifting his head and kissing Dean hard on the mouth, their shared moans drowning in the kiss. "I'm so close…"

Dean pries his eyes open, wanting to watch the -  _ his  _ angel's face as he comes. A few thrusts in, Cas' hips stutter, Dean feeling the warm liquid filling him. He groans, running his hands through Cas' ruffled hair as he watches him lose himself to the pleasure.

They stay like that for long enough that it gets uncomfortable, Dean's come drying on his chest and stomach. Cas still has his eyes closed, forehead pressed against Dean's. He lifts a hand, touching the angel's cheek.

"You good, Cas?"

Cas sighs softly, "Wonderful, Dean." When he opens his eyes, it's still a little hazy and Dean suppresses a smug grin at managing to get Cas to this state. Cas kisses him, just a press of lips to his. "Are you okay?"

Dean smiles, content and sated. "Fucking amazing." He says, "Gotta get cleaned up, though."

Cas lifts two fingers and presses it to his forehead. He feels tingly and when he looks down, his stomach and chest is clean.

"That's one hell of a perk." He laughs. Cas pulls out of him ever so slowly, flopping down on the mattress next to him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"What would have my fate been if I had not met you?"

Dean swallows, the question hanging heavy in the air. 

"Better." He murmurs.

Cas rolls sideways, a palm sliding to chest. "Look at me, Dean." He turns his head, barely meeting the angel's eyes. "If I had not met you, I would have been heaven's puppet. I would have plotted against humanity and done harm to everything my father stood for. I'm glad I met you, Dean. And I don't know what I would do if I lose you."

Dean feels his eyes prickle. He rolls over and pulls the angel closer, tucking his head under Cas' chin. "All this time I told myself I didn't deserve you but I'm selfish enough to want you, Cas." He says, stomping down the fear rising in his gut. "You're the only thing that makes sense right now."

Cas runs his fingers through his hair, "I wish I had found you earlier, Dean. I wish I had been the first one to be sent to find you in hell." 

"You weren't?"

"No." He replies. "Numerous angels preceded my attempt. Come to think of it, that might have been heaven trying to ensure you break the seal." He runs his hand up and down Dean's back. "Nothing compares to the joy I felt when I found you, Dean."

Dean huffs a watery laugh, "It was probably 'cause of competing your mission successfully."

"No, Dean. Following orders never gave me joy. It was merely duty." Cas says, "When I laid my hand on your soul, I felt what now I know is genuine bliss. Your soul responded to my grace like it's where you belonged. I have never seen anything so marvelous.

"And then I rebuilt your body and my admiration for you overpowered me all over again." Cas continues. "I used to observe you on your initial days of return from hell, and your soul always sensed me, even if you never really knew. I was confused, no man has ever been able to sense as such." 

"Cas…" Dean holds him tighter, fearing the walls might break if he says anything more.

"You're special, Dean." Cas murmurs, tone filled with adoration. "I would go to hell another million times if it were for you."

" _ Fuck."  _ Dean rubs his eyes against the heel of his palm. "I love you, angel." The words roll off his tongue taking the weight of the falling sky along with it, out of his chest. He hated himself for not saying it earlier enough, as many times as he could have. Then, Cas left and he thought he'd never be able to say it. 

He feels a kiss being pressed to the crown of his head. "I love you too, Dean." Cas says, and Dean can't get enough of those words. He hates how much he wants to hear that again. He lifts his head and kisses the angel, soft but deep. Words have never been enough for them.

He breaks off, smiling a little wider than before. "You know how to be the big spoon, Cas?"

  
  


******

Castiel gets pinned against the floor for the third time in a row, Dean straddling his chest with an angel blade pointed to his neck.

“Getting a little rusty there, angel?” Dean asks. 

Castiel pushes him off, sitting up straight. “You cheated, Dean. Again.”

Dean bats his lashes, f eigning innocence, “False accusation, Castiel.”

Castiel grabs the collar of Dean’s shirt and hauls him to the floor, climbing on top of him and grinding down hard. “Is that so, Dean?”

“Fuck. Okay, sorry.” Dean tries to push him off, but Castiel doesn’t have any trouble pinning him down harder. “You keep doing that and I won’t be able to control what happens next.”

“Oh, for the love of God.” Sam emerges out of the backdoor, clutching two beers in his hand. "I'm only recovering from yesterday."

Castiel's climbs off Dean, standing on his feet and dusting his pants. He stretches out a hand to Dean and he takes it, pulling himself up. 

"You should invest in some ear plugs instead of whining, bitch." Dean says, "Cas here is pretty loud."

"Dean." Castiel warns, sudden embarrassment overpowering him. 

"That's it, I'm moving out." Sam heads back in, leaving the beer on threshold.

"What's wrong, Cupcake?"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "You made Sam uncomfortable." He says. "Also, I'm an angel of the Lord, not a baked good."

"What? You didn't like Cupcake?" Dean asks. "I've got a few others. How about Cuddlemuffin? Sugarbun?”

Castiel leaves him there and walks back inside. 

_ "Snuggle Pudding?"  _ Dean calls from behind.

******

“Heaven is dispersed into two factions as of now, yet there is a good number of angels who are bordering between sides, unable to make a choice.” Castiel explains, looking back and forth between the two men who are hanging on to every word he is saying. “The suspicions began when one of the angels,  _ Josiah,  _ was  assigned a mission to aid a few demons under Zachariah’s orders. He refused to undertake the task and expressed his suspicion to Camael, his garrison leader and my good friend.”

“Didn't see this good friend of yours while you were busting your ass trying to stop the apocalypse.” Dean comments.

“Dean,” Castiel regards him an unwavering gaze. “You need to understand not all angels were like me. They held onto their convictions longer than me, even when they were internally doubting their superiors.” He says. “Not every angel had their own Winchester to show them the right path.”

Dean’s eyes widen a little, and Castiel registers the flare of his soul as well as the color rising in his cheeks. “Fair enough.”

“Guys, focus,” Sam snaps his fingers. “What then?”

“Few days later, Josiah’s vessel was found under mysterious circumstances.” Castiel continues. “Camael was revolted, considering Josiah’s earlier doubts. He rallied his garrison against Zachariah along with the help of a few others.”

“So even if we manage to get rid of Zachariah, his supporters will still be left.” Sam says. “That’s a lot of angels Cas. You sure you’ll be okay fighting against them?”

Castiel considers the question. True to his word, he would do anything to assure the safety of humankind. Unfortunately, the price is high. Castiel has already slaughtered enough of his siblings in the name of right and wrong. Castiel is no one to crown himself as good, but all he's hoping is that the sacrifices made would amount to something in the end.

“You’re on the good side, Cas.” Dean says, shaking him out of his thoughts. “It’s a lot but you’re helping us humans. Grand scheme of things, you still hold the higher points.”

Castiel realizes something in that moment. Every single dilemma of his came with the solution right ahead of him,  _ Dean Winchester. _ The man was the voice of reason, and Castiel was more than willing to listen. 

He offers Dean a smile, “You are right.”

Dean grins, “What else?”

“As Sam rightfully pointed out, Zachariah has a large fraction of angels in his favor and at the moment, there is a bigger problem.”

“Of course, there is.” Dean lets out a breath, mood shifting quickly. “What’s it?”

“Raphael.”

“Wait, like the Archangel?” Sam asks. Dean looks over at him and Sam shrugs. “I know my lore.”

“Yes, the Archangel.” Castiel replies. “Raphael is right under the command of Michael. Zachariah seems to be disposed of temporarily, all his factions reporting to Raphael instead.”

“Dandy, we’re just short of Leonardo and Donatello.” Dean grumbles. Castiel tilts his head, knowing it’s possibly one of Dean’s pop culture references he is only beginning to get acquainted to. Dean catches his eyes and snorts, but does not elaborate. “So, how do we gank Archangels?”

“Angel blades will not suffice.” Castiel says. “I have gathered some information from a few trusted sources regarding a weapon that can possibly take down Raphael.”

“I’m not liking the sound of that.” Dean remarks.

“Well, it’s all we got.” Sam says.

"During the last war between the devil and Michael, Lucifer's weapon was confiscated by heaven after he was sealed away by my father." Castiel remembers. "The weapon ㅡ _namely, a spear_ ㅡ was designed for the purpose of destroying the archangels. Though Lucifer was outnumbered, his spear was indeed powerful enough to withhold the combined strength of my father and the Archangels."

"Sounds jolly. Where's this thing?" Dean asks.

"After the war, it was stored in Heaven's arsenal guarded by Virgil. During one of the many rampages between Heaven and Hell, demons murdered Virgil and looted the arsenal."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Dean throws his head into his hands. "Add demons to the mix, that should be fun.”

"So, this spear is with the demons?" Sam asks.

"It is stored in one of Lucifer's crypts." Castiel says. "Crypts are generally located in Hell, but many of them have entry points on earth. Two locations that might be an entry to the crypt have been pinpointed.” 

“When’s Bobby coming back from Iowa?” Dean asks. "He'd wanna know what's going on."

“Didn’t tell, I’ll call him and ask.” Sam replies. "He's with Rufus, it might take a while."

“If he was there, we could've split and checked out the locations.” Dean suggests. “One of them got to be hiding this spear.”

“We cannot simply split, Dean.” Castiel says. “I can guide you to the crypts but Sam would need someone to help him through it. Someone who knows hell, and is willing to work with us.”

He watches realization dawn on Dean’s face. “Oh joy.”

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written while I was at the brink of a block. Please forgive any mistakes.


	14. Chapter 14

### Chapter 13

_"Let not light see what is dark and deep within me."_

Dean cuts off the main road, very much aware of the weight of the demon knife in his coat pocket. He feels a hand sliding to his knee, squeezing softly. He looks over at the angel riding shotgun, feeling himself break into a soft smile. Cas reassures him, even without the help of words, and Dean relaxes ever so little. His thoughts wander off to Cas, since his eyes can't reach where his mind wants to be. 

They’re gonna be fine.

Dean whips his head back, “Is this the place, Sam?”

“Yeah.” Sam says. “Pull up here.”

Dean parks Baby in the middle of the field and climbs out, throwing a smile at Cas who returns it without hesitation. He leans forward as Cas walks over to his side and presses a kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?” Cas asks, with a tilt of his head. 

“Nothing.” Dean shrugs. “Felt like I haven't been kissing you enough.”

“You have.” Cas replies. “But don’t stop on my accord. I like kissing you.”

Dean lets out a laugh, knowing in that moment that he’d never love anyone like he loves the angel. 

“Don’t start sucking faces in front of me.” Dean turns around, and sure enough, Ruby’s there. “Aren’t you seeing this, Sam?”

“You’re late.” Dean retorts.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Guys, come on.” Sam sighs, and Dean snaps his mouth shut for his brother’s sake. “What did you find, Ruby?”

“Well, the crypts are unopened.” She says. “And unguarded, apparently. Hell is a little short on demons, thanks to feathers and his Brady Bunch. We can get in and out quick enough.”

“Doesn’t it seem too easy?” Dean narrows his eyes.

“Oh, I wasn’t done.” She continues. “Since the war in heaven began, we don’t know who’s working for who. People from both sides are attempting to get to the crypts. I don’t know if it’s for the spear or if there’s something even more valuable in there.”

“What you’re saying is, we’re not the only ones trying to get to the crypts.” Sam restates. 

“Yup.” She nods. “I can defend off demons but I don’t think I can take angels.” 

“Perhaps, we don’t have to split.” Cas suggests. 

“No, that’s just extra waste of time.” Sam says. “I can handle the angels.”

“No, Sam.” Cas says. “I can’t willingly let you into danger.”

“He’s right, Sam.” Dean regards his brother. “It’s not happening if you’re not safe.”

“Dean, come on.” Sam protests.

“I think I have a solution.” Cas suggests. He closes his eyes, brows all scrunched up in concentration and Dean can’t help but smile at the sight. The dorky little guy could crush him under his feet but Dean would lovingly let him.

He hears the telltale flapping of wings and snaps his head around, hands sliding to the angel blade in his pocket. A hand around his wrist stops him, Cas giving him a curt nod, possibly to let him know it's fine. 

“Castiel.” The angel pays no regards to any of them, except for his looks of disgust aimed at Ruby. Dean grins like the little shit he is.

“Ambriel.” Cas replies. “Is everything in heaven going well?”

“A few of Raphael’s men attacked but we were able to capture them. They seem to be the ones who stayed back and didn’t join Raphael when he retreated.” Ambriel replies. “Camael was waiting for your instructions to decide what to do with the prisoners.”

Dean feels Cas stiffen next to him. He guides his hand softly against the small of his back, letting Cas know he’s here.

Cas draws in a deep breath. “We shouldn't forget the fact they are our brothers and sisters.” He says. “Treat them well, even while we are holding them captive. I will speak to Camael about the rest of it.”

Dean’s heart breaks a little. Cas never really wanted any of this, he could’ve just been heaven’s little puppet. But, Cas is doing the right thing here and Dean is proud. If there is a God listening, Dean thanks them for Cas being the one who yanked his ass out of hellfire. Literally.

“Very well, Castiel.” Ambriel replies. “What shall I do for you?”

"I need you to accompany Sam to one of Lucifer's crypts to retrieve the spear." Dean only had a vague picture of what the spear looks like from Cas explaining to them with the help of some lore. Even so, the general idea was to grab anything that looks remotely valuable.

Ambriel frowns, "I have not been to hell. I'm not sure of where to expect what you are looking for." 

"Ruby will guide you, brother. I just need you to be there for Sam's protection." Cas says. "You need not worry, she will not betray. If she does, you have my permission to kill her."

Dean stifles a snort at the deadpan declaration. "I second that."

"I feel ganged upon." Ruby protests. "I won't fuck you over as long as the bridge runs both ways."

"You know better than to mess with us." Sam reiterates. "Is it a plan, then?"

Cas looks over at Dean and then at Ambriel, earning confirmation from both of them. "It is a plan."

******

“A manhole in the middle of the forest?” Dean turns to him, “Really?”

“That’s the peculiarity here, Dean. It’s a misplaced entrance not noticeable by humans but clear enough for demons to know.”

“Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” Dean shrugs. “So what, we just climb down?”

“Perhaps,” Castiel extends his hand to Dean, “I can lower us there. But, I need your help for that.” 

Dean cocks a brow at him, even as he takes his hand. “I’m your battery?”

“Something like that.” Castiel replies. “My grace is familiar with your soul. I can channel my powers better that way.”

Dean’s face morphs into an unreadable expression, a soft smile playing on his lips but his eyes telling a different story.

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel asks, not breaking his gaze away from the hunter’s face. “It won’t hurt.”

Dean shakes his head, laughing. “I don’t care if it hurts, Cas.” He says. “It’s just... sometimes I forget you’re an angel and all that.”

Castiel lets out an exhale. He uses his grip on Dean’s hand to tug him closer. “Dean, I may be an angel but that does not change anything. I love you.” He cups his lover’s face in his hands. “While it might be odd, it’s not the first time an angel and a human have fallen in love.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” Castiel replies. “In fact, it’s humans who show angels that we too are capable of love. I don’t regret any of my choices regarding you, Dean. If I could do this all over again, I would have still chosen you.”

Castiel is not sure if he’s giving Dean the reassurance the man is looking for. Even then, he’s ready to spend the rest of eternity showing Dean how worthy he is and giving him all the love he can. Dean smiles at him softly, and Castiel’s borrowed heart skips a beat in his chest. When Dean kisses him, Castiel can’t help but smile into it, relishing the warmth of Dean all around him.

Dean pulls away, an adorable grin on his face, “I really wanna keep making out but we got work to do.” Castiel frowns, and Dean chucks his chin playfully. “Don’t make that face at me, angel. Come on, chop chop.”

Castiel reclaims his hold on Dean’s hand. “Are you ready?”

Dean lifts their linked hand to his lips and presses a kiss to Castiel’s knuckles. “Hell no.”

******

Dean feels the heat and familiar stench before he even manages to find his footing. He doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand. He needs to know he’s not back in his horrible nightmare. Cas might have sensed his distress by the way he shifts closer.

“Dean, it’s alright. You’re safe.” 

Dean grounds himself with the feeling of Cas around him. “I’m fine, Cas. Lead the way.”

Cas doesn’t move for another few seconds, staring at Dean with that calculating gaze of his. Finally, Cas lets go of his hand and starts walking, the drag of his blade from his coat pocket echoing through the dark tunnels.

“Can you even see which way we’re going?” Dean stage-whispers for some reason. 

“Yes.” Cas states. “There are two tunnels here, one of them should lead to the crypt.”

“Maybe we should split,” Dean offers, “that way we can cover more ground.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Dean.” Cas stops, turning to him. Even though he’s got a little on Cas, Dean feels small right then, the way his angel’s silhouette looms mere inches away from his face. “You can keep arguing but it’s not happening. It’s too dangerous.”

Dean sighs, defeated. He won’t admit it but he was seriously hoping Cas wouldn’t let him. “Alright, you’re the boss.” Cas’ features stiffen a little at that, as though he’s taken aback. 

They keep walking, somewhere along the way Dean grabbing Cas’ sleeve as the tunnel gets impossibly dark. He feels like a little kid holding hands to cross the road but he has absolutely no fucks to give. 

“What do these crypts even look like?”

“They are merely rooms, possibly warded.” Cas replies. “Hell is not simply burning pits as humans depict it to be, though those are there. The architecture resembles the way civilization progresses on the Earth.”

Dean had to take Cas' word for it since his time down here didn't really involve sightseeing.

“So hell could look like Manhattan?”

“Not exactly.” Cas says. “The basic structures will be identical. You would find buildings but not skyscrapers. You will notice the similar pattern in heaven, though much better.”

“Double standards.” Dean chuckles. “Are we getting any closer.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ain’t that just great.” Dean mumbles. As though on cue, the tunnel starts lighting up slowly, the walls materializing around them. “That doesn’t look good.”

Cas slows his pace, an arm reflectively coming around to hold Dean back.

“Cas, what’s wrong?”

The tunnel widens and grows brighter, opening into a square room. Dean squints his eyes, trying to drink in more of the details. The room is lined with worn out bricks snipping at the ends, the fillings thinning and crusty. One of the walls is lined with something different, which Dean takes a while to realize is a door. 

“Dean, something…” 

Dean doesn’t need to know what Cas is about to say as his own hunter’s instincts make the skin on the back of his neck prickle. 

He ducks right as the blade swishes past his head, using one arm to push Cas back against the wall. On his way down, he grabs the man by his leg, dragging him to the floor.

“Cas?” Dean calls.

“Demon.” Cas provides. Dean looks over and sees Cas still pressed against the wall, now his angel blade raised to attack. Past the angel, he sees four more demons lining the far end where he now sees another entrance. Dean slams his own blade into the demon’s chest, feeling the last dying light fade away from its eyes. He climbs off from where he was straddling the demon and stands facing the room. The demons close in, the stench of malice oozing off them. He feels Cas press close to him. 

Dean meets his angel’s eyes and nods. 

“Ready, fellas?”

******

The final demon falls to the ground, Castiel’s blade still buried deep in it’s chest.

“We should’ve seen that coming.” Dean mutters. He bends down, pulling Castiel’s blade out of the demon’s chest and handing it back to him. “You good?”

“Yes.” He takes a step closer to the hunter, pressing two fingers to his forehead, watching the bruise on his face fade away. “You shouldn’t have told that demon he hits like a demon.” 

Dean shrugs. “I refuse to say he hits like a girl because trust me, I’ve been beaten up by girls.”

Cas runs his thumb along the freckles panning Dean’s face. He wonders how he ended up being fortunate enough to fall in love with such an amazing human.

Dean laughs shakily, “Come on, angel. We gotta get going.”

The room creaks under their combined weight even though the floor they are on is sturdy. Castiel lifts a hand, illuminating the array of warding sigils spanning the door.

“You sure I can get in?” Dean asks, from behind him.

“There shouldn’t be any difficulty.” Castiel replies. “I will stand guard. Go ahead.”

Dean slips ahead of him, reaching a hand towards the knocker. He looks surprised when the door comes open easily enough but it’s Castiel’s turn to gape when he peers inside.

“It’s empty.” Castiel points out. Dean turns to look back at him from where he’s already inside the room, eyebrows scrunched together.

“No, it’s not…?”

“Do you see anything inside the room?” Castiel asks, carefully.

“Yeah. There’s a bunch of chests. Five... no six. The long one should be it.” Dean says. “What are you seeing?”

“Nothing.” Castiel replies. “The warding seems to be really strong to the point only mortal creatures can perceive the items contained in there. Dean, be careful when you touch something."

"Careful's my middle name." Dean says. Castiel watches him reach forward into what he sees as an empty space.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asks, perhaps a little sharper than intended.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean curses. "I can't give commentary if I'm doing this."

Castiel goes silent at that, carefully watching Dean fiddle with something in the air before a quiet gasp falls out of the hunter's lips.

"Dean?"

"Woah, I guess this is it, Cas." Dean says. He sees Dean curl his hand around in the shape of a stick and pull it up. "Okay, I didn't explode. That's good." Dean crosses the threshold of the room and the spear materializes in his hand. 

"There you go." He hands to Castiel. "I'm gonna go scour for something else that might come in handy."

Castiel hesitates. He doesn't want Dean to spend more time in hell. "Dean, perhaps we should leave."

"S' okay, buddy." Dean says, "There might be something in-" His words die out as his eyes travel to something over Castiel's shoulder. He feels Dean's soul still, waves of fear and coldness startling him in its wake.

He turns around to witness the source of Dean's distress and finds himself face to face with the very thing he wanted Dean to stay away from.

"Alastair." Castiel spits out, stepping in front of Dean instinctively. 

"Howdy, angel. You were the one to snatch Dean away from me, yeah?" Alastair croaks. "And, Dean. My boy. It's so good to see you." Castiel uses the distraction to tap into his grace and hide the spear.

"Go fuck yourself." Dean snarls, but Castiel can still feel the icy fear emitting from his soul.

"Still so fiery, I love it." Alastair says, voice like acid. Castiel is losing his patience by the minute from the way the demon's eyes are raking Dean over. "I would've thrown a welcome back party if I knew you were coming."

He feels Dean's hands move to grab his blade but Castiel doesn't wait as he shifts his own blade in his hand, racing forward, aiming for Alastair's face. The demon dodges his slashes, taking advantage of Castiel's lack of tact, considering his mind keeps drifting back to the need to keep Dean safe.

"Cas, don't!" 

With a wave of his hand, Alastair throws Dean against the wall, pinning him there. Castiel tries to slash at the demon again but he parries away in the last minute, sending Castiel toppling a few steps forward.

"Lost your touch, angel?" Alastair's face morphs into an ugly grin. "Forgot to fight while you were busy fucking your boy toy?"

"Cas…no…" Dean chokes out from somewhere behind him, possibly sensing how furious Castiel is. He disregards Dean's request this one time, charging forward and smacking the demon with the hilt of his blade. Alastair seems completely nonchalant as he grabs Castiel's free hand and twists it behind him, pushing him to the floor. Castiel manages to free himself enough to stab Alastair in the hip, wounding him. Alastair only winces before he closes a fist to Castiel's face. The first punch is followed by several another as Castiel tries to struggle out of his grip.

"I'm gonna kill you real slow, just to put on a show for your little whore." Alastair drawls between punches. "Then, Dean's all mine. I'm gonna have so much fun-" His words die out as a blade pokes out of his chest, life fading away as sparks from his eyes. 

Alastair's lifeless vessel topples over on Castiel. He pushes it away and sits back up, his jaw throbbing. Dean is kneeled next to him in the span of a few seconds, laying hesitant touches to his face.

"I am fine, Dean." Castiel supplies, not wanting Dean to worry any more than he is right now. "Are you hurt?"

"No…" Dean whispers, voice shaking. "Are you good enough to get us topside?"

"Yes." He stands on his feet, slightly disoriented. He concentrates on his grace, heals himself and retrieves the spear. Castiel holds out his hand and Dean takes it without a sparing a second.

They land right next to the manhole they entered through and Castiel is immediately pulled into an embrace, Dean burying his face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one hand around Dean's waist and threads another through his hair.

“Shit, Alastair is dead.” Dean mumbles into his neck. 

Castiel can’t even begin to understand how strenuous it was for Dean to face Alastair like that. He’s not sure if it’s fear or relief in Dean’s voice, considering everything the demon did to Dean and made him do.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." Castiel says, softly.

"What for?" 

"I should have known how traumatizing this would have been for you." 

Dean pulls away, a weary smile gracing his lips. "Everything I do is traumatizing, Cas. Doesn't mean I can sit at home with my thumb up my ass." A good-natured laugh falls out of the hunters lips and he coils his arms around Castiel's neck. "Though, the idea of _your_ thumb up my ass doesn't sound so bad."

"Dean." Castiel shoves him away, feeling a wave of heat creeping up his chest. "We need to go find Sam." He retrieves the spear from the damp soil of the clearing.

Dean's phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket. "Speak of the devil." He lifts it to his ear, grinning. "Heya, Sammy. We found the-  _ Ruby? _ " The grin fades away from his face and Castiel inches forward, laying a hand on Dean's forearm. 

"What do you mean?" Dean's voice is barely a whisper. Castiel restrains from listening out of respect but the fear in Dean's eyes is unnerving. 

There is a strained 'shit' falling out of the hunter's mouth before he pockets his phone.

"Dean, is everything okay?"

"No." Dean breathes out. "They have Sam."

******

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you are coping well with the show's return tomorrow. Because, I am not.


	15. Chapter 15

### Chapter 14

_"I wanted to know you breathed and moved in the same world with me."_

Before Castiel could register what was happening, Dean had Ruby pinned to a tree, an angel blade pointed at her throat.

“I will fucking end you.” The hunter is all but fury. 

“News flash.” Ruby croaks out. “But, I didn’t do anything. You can ask hot wings over here.”

Castiel pulled Dean back by the elbow, keeping him grounded. He sees Ruby disappear through his peripheral vision and he turns to Ambriel,

“Brother, I would like to know what happened.” 

“A group of angels led by Raguel and Nathaniel attacked us once we managed to open the crypt.” Ambriel replied, unimpressed. 

“Where’s my brother, then?” Dean barks.

Castiel shot Ambriel an apologetic look. “Patience, Dean. Let him continue.”

“They led Sam away from us during the battle and before we could stop them, they left with Sam.” Ambriel said. “There were no fatalities among them but Nathaniel and Lailah are heavily injured.”

Dean turns away from him, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have let him go.”

“Dean, there is no point wasting time taking blame for something you couldn’t stop.” Castiel puts a safe distance between them, knowing the man can require space to sort out his feelings. “We will find Sam. They won’t hurt him, he is their leverage.”

“Where the hell did they even take him?”

“It has to be heaven. They know we would come looking for Sam.”

“I’m assuming we can’t stroll in there, grab Sam and walk outta the front door.”

“‘We cannot.” Castiel agrees. “We will find him, Dean. I will return your brother safely to you even if it costs me my life.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Dean growls, turning to jab a finger at him, “What makes you think I’m willing to lose you? We’re going to heaven and getting my brother back and all of us are returning back alive. You get me, angel?”

Castiel ducks his head, “Yes, Dean.”

“Is it acceptable to take humans to heaven, considering the-”

“Right, we’re trash.” Dean scoffs. “Well, you can tuck your tail between your legs and go cry at whoever’s feet you want, but you winged rats are no better than any of us humans.”

“Brother, our own kin is fighting against each other and plotting the destruction of our father’s creation.” Castiel adds, “We have no right to consider ourselves any superior than humanity.”

“Very well.” Ambriel doesn’t seem very happy about the developments. “I will deliver the news to Camael, he has been anticipating your return.”

Castiel smiles at that. “Tell him to set up an entrance.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You must understand how desperate the situation is if I’m asking you for something like this.”

“I understand.” With a curt nod, Ambriel leaves. 

"I don't like him," Dean mutters. 

"You don't have to," Castiel assures him. "We need all the help we can to do this, and I have to work with angels, but I'm not going to ask you to let them order you around."

"You know _them_ includes you too, right?"

Castiel sighs heavily at Dean's comment. Being able to serve God and his creation as an angel has always been something Castiel prided himself on. But when there is no Lord almighty to serve, it's as though the core purpose of his existence has been stripped away from him. Castiel often refrains from thinking what the outcome of his rebellion would have been if he hadn't met Dean. He would still have rebelled if heaven's ideologies were proven to be faulty, but he's almost positive he would not have made it this far. 

"Cas." Dean snaps his fingers in front of his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Dean," Castiel smiles at the hunter. "Yes, I am an angel, yet my decisions are nothing but my own free conscience."

"I know how hard this is for you, man. I appreciate you doing this." Dean says. "Now, what's this entrance you were talking about?"

Castiel unfurls his wings. “It’s better if I show you.”

******

Dean finds his footing on some soft grass, hearing crickets chirping before he opens his eyes. It’s cold, dark and the woods around them obstruct any moon light. Though when he looks up, the sky is painted with stars. Ahead of them, the forest ground has cleared to make something like small a crop circle, the ground underneath the surface shimmering white.

“Where are we?”

“Finland.” Cas replies. “The entrance is set up here.”

“So, this is like the door to heaven?”

“It’s _a_ door to heaven.” Cas says. “Entrances to heaven are always set up inside the veil. But under certain special conditions, angels have the authority to set up a gate to heaven on the Earth, somewhere far away from civilization.”

“Why did you ask your angel friend to do it?”

“An entrance can only be set up from heaven.” Cas explains. “This is a system that used to prevail back when my father used to be present. When certain humans have done exquisite service to humanity, angels themselves set up the path to escort them to heaven, in their mortal forms if they desire. Unfortunately, humanity has gone too far down the path of crime-”

“-And you had to call off the whole thing.” Dean hazards a guess. Cas looks so sad over the prospect of humans fucking up, Dean wants to hug him. Instead, he loops an arm around Cas’ waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “So, I can go in just like that?”

“It so happens, if you go alone, you will be sent directly to your personal heaven.”

Dean blinks back, “I have a personal heaven?”

“Everyone who manages to make it past the gate does.” Cas says. “Heaven is growing like a tree, pushing out new personal heavens and other seemingly beautiful biomes like roots. Sometimes, angels themselves stumble upon a new part of heaven that has never been there before.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Dean admits. He never thought he’d get to go to heaven, but having an angel boyfriend does the trick. _Boyfriend. Shit._ The term sends a wave of thrill down his spine. He stomps down and digests his schoolgirl butterflies and asks,

“So how do we get past this bitch?”

In response, Castiel holds out his hand, “I will guide you.”

Dean takes his hand, grinning, “I feel like you’re just making excuses to hold my hand.”

Cas’ lips twitch into a smirk. “Nothing you can prove.”

  
******

Dean's not sure if he's surprised or disappointed. On one hand, people's description of heaven does no justice to what it truly looks like. Dean now understood what Cas meant when he said heaven reflected earth but not literally. The place looks like a whole ecosystem made out of all the wildlife that was destroyed on earth. On the other hand, Dean was silently hoping he could see Cas' wings. But that didn't stop him from gawking at the angel. To his surprise, Cas was looking back at him, mirroring the awe on his face.

"What?" Dean cocked a brow.

"Your soul…it's so much more different here… beautiful."

If a soul could blush, Dean's would have been red by now. Cas must really like what he sees because he's never heard the guy speak in anything other than full sentences. Before he could come up with a snarky comment, he was being pulled into a kiss by the back of his neck.

Dean let out a whimper as their lips met, his mind swimming away from his worries for a moment. When they pulled apart, Cas' eyes were soft and warm.

"You can stare all you want once we find my brother." Dean chuckles, only to watch Cas' expression fall.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I should have known how dangerous it was."

"You couldn't have known, Cas." Dean replies. "It doesn't matter 'cause we're gonna find him."

Castiel nods. "Of course. There are not many places they can hide for long."

They walk through the forests, Dean making several double backs as he drinks in the beauty of the place. As they moved further in, the forests slipped away as something similar to a rural town formed ahead of his eyes. Cas moved with purposeful steps, explaining the different parts of heaven to him. Dean followed silently, enjoying watching Cas in his element.

Cas became more weary as they moved further back into the woods, checking his surroundings more than once, a hand hovering over where his blade was tucked in his coat pocket. Dean too could feel the eeriness of the whole thing, a mid-war tension emitting from the place around them. He spotted the tents only when he was a few feet away from them. They blended in well with the woods, people walking in and out hurriedly. The very second someone spotted them, murmurs broke out among the flock.

Dean leans closer to Cas and whispers, "What's going on?"

"These are where the wounded soldiers are treated." Cas says. "There are more than I anticipated. There must have been an attack recently. "

The tent in the center of the line of tents opens and an angel comes rushing out, sending Dean's hands to his blade. A look from Cas makes him drop his hands, not far away enough to be letting his guard down.

"Commander!" The angel gets all up in Cas' personal space, smiling a little too wide. "I'm so glad you are here."

"Commander?" Dean mouths and Cas shoots him a helpless shrug.

"It's good to see you too, Camael." Cas smiles politely. "How are things going on here?"

"Not very good, Commander." Camael says. "Now you have come back, and there is nothing to worry."

Dean intercepts the two of them, extending a hand. "Hey, there. Dean Winchester." 

Dean's usually not the one to pose to assert dominance but the guy is clearly fangirling over Cas. Besides, Cas is a couple billion light years out of his league and Dean can't help but play a little alpha male.

Camael looks at him and down at his hand before shaking it, grip to soft and unsteady, as though he's never done it before. Dean can't help but snort, knowing that's probably the case. 

"I have seen humans perform this sort of greeting but no one has ever greeted me this way." Camael says, awe in his voice. 

Dean offers him a genuine smile, "Get used to it, Cam."

The angel stares back at him, probably confused by the nickname. Beside them, Cas clears his throat.

"Was there any attacks recently, Camael?" Cas asks, tone serious.

"There was an ambush less than twelve human hours ago." Camael replies. 

"And, why was I not informed?" The rumble in Castiel's voice was borderline scary, sending a shiver down Dean's spine. He now gets where the whole 'commander' thing comes from.

"We dismantled the- the means of communication between angels fearing interception." Camael stumbled with his words. "It was a strategically poor attack. We were able to defend off without much trouble."

"Any casualties?"

"None. Only a few minor injuries to some soldiers."

"Good." Cas nods. "You should go check on the injured soldiers. I will be with you in a minute."

As soon as Camael is out of earshot, Dean snakes his fingers around Cas' wrist, holding him in place. 

"What the hell was that about?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You don't know, my ass." Dean grumbles. "Why were you going all Gordon Gekko on him? Guy was terrified."

Cas keeps his eyes on the ground, "It seems as though you are concerned about his feelings."

It takes a little more than a second for things to click. Dean would've laughed his ass off if it weren't for Cas looking like Dean just kicked every puppy in a five mile radius.

"Are you jealous, Cas?"

When Cas doesn't answer him and keeps inspecting the ground, Dean cups his jaw with his free hand, lifting his gaze up. "You know, I'm not the poster boy for communication, but we've had our fair share of fights. So, tell me if something is bothering you."

Cas sighs, "I was a little jealous, yes."

Dean feels his heart swell. Castiel is a goddamn angel of the Lord and the guy is scared Dean might ditch him for another angel. It's pretty ironic how Dean should be the one worrying. And that he does a lot. Every time Dean gets hit with the idea of losing Cas, he's there by Dean's side, proving otherwise. Apparently, while wallowing in his own crisis, Dean never realized Cas seems to need the assurance too.

"Hey, baby," Dean lets go of his wrist and pulls him close by the lapel of his coat, "You know why I cut in on you two in the first place?"

"I don't."

"S' because I was jealous, dumbass," Dean laughs, resting his hands on Cas' shoulders. "He was wooing you over a bit too much and it hit my fragile human ego, thinking he'd snatch you away."

"I would never leave you for anyone, Dean."

"I wouldn't leave you either. You're a billion on a scale of ten, Cas. I literally cannot do any better." Dean says. "Point is, even if we know we won't ditch each other, sometimes doubts happen. So if you think you need to talk, then talk."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Fuck, he hates when Cas looks sad. 

"Don't apologize to me, go back to the dude." Dean says. "I'll see around on my own, Commander."

Castiel turns bright red at that, blue eyes widening a little. Duck chuckles, smacking his ass and walking away, filing that little information away for later.

"Don't wander off too far." Cas calls from behind him.

"Alright, mom!"

  
******  
  
  


The soldiers are gathered around the table, glancing at each other and back at Castiel. Some of them have their eyes on Dean too, who didn't look as comfortable as the hunter usually did. The wounded soldiers watch from their respective makeshift hammocks, intently waiting for Castiel to speak. It is quite frankly overwhelming to say the least, the way an entire army of his kind looks up to him.

Castiel clears his throat, "The previous attack must have been Zachariah's way of telling he had the upper hand, considering how he has Sam Winchester hostage."

"Then he's mistaken. Why would having a human in their possession provide them an advantage?" Elijah asks.

"Because you scumbags are supposed to be protecting humans." Dean spit out. "If anything happens to my brother, I will hang you rats alive."

"Dean." Castiel places an arm on his shoulder. Things were already starting to get out of hand and he needs Dean to be calm.

"Is this who you're sending us to our deaths for?" Elijah barks, and Castiel is sure the angel has made his way on Dean's _"I don like him"_ list. "How are your intentions any better than Raphael's?"

"Now now, let's remain calm." Camael says, "Let's not go about making blind accusations."

"We are trying to eliminate a threat that is Raphael and everyone under him. Rescuing Sam Winchester is part of our duty as humanity's protectors, and that is exactly what we are going to do." Castiel grits out. "If anyone has any suspicion regarding where my loyalties lie, you can walk out of this room and join the enemy forces right now. But remember, I will be the one to hunt you down."

The room falls silent at that, any previous murmurs dying down. Next to him, Dean sucks in a sharp breath and Castiel turns to him, only to have the hunter watch him with an unreadable expression.

Camael clears his throat, "Now that is settled, let us focus on the plan forward. I hear the mission to retrieve Lucifer's spear was a success?"

"Indeed." Castiel nods. "We cannot be sure regarding the effectiveness of the weapon, but everyone here, excluding Dean, witnessed the devil's fall and the damage said weapon induced."

"Well, that's the best we got." Dean says. "We can't keep sitting ducks."

Castiel is not sure how ducks correlate to the matter at hand but Dean is right. This is a chance they have to take. If there was any way they could get Sam back, it was to launch an attack without giving the enemy any time to speculate their plans. 

******

"Do you think you can trust everyone in there?" Dean asks, watching the angels gathered in small groups, murmuring and shooting glances at them..

"I'm not sure." Cas says. "We need to trust them as much as we trust ourselves, it's the only way."

Dean leans back on his elbows, watching the sun slowly sinking down. "Is there day and night in heaven?"

"Yes. Though, the weather is almost the same all the time."

The water flows past the rocks with a gurgle, further away into the forest. Beyond the creek, a set of buildings expand, one beginning where another ends. 

“What are those?”

“Those are the heavens for all the souls residing in here.” Cas says. “Each room inside the building opens into a region of its own where souls get to live out their good memories and fantasies.”

Dean waggles his brows, “Live porn?” 

Cas does a full body eye-roll. “If they wish so.”

“Commander!” Dean doesn't even turn around, not having the energy to deal with Camael’s dramatic ass. “I have set up a tent for you and your human.”

“Boyfriend.” Dean corrects, partly to see Cas’ reaction. The angel’s face breaks into a grin as never seen before. 

“Yes, Dean is my boyfriend.” Cas nods vigorously. He’s never seen the angel look like a kid in a candy store and if he’d known, Dean would have posted flyers all across America, announcing their relationship, just to see that smile. 

“Thanks for all the trouble, Cam.” Dean gets off the rock and dusts his jeans, offering a hand to Cas. 

“It’s no trouble.” Camael ushers. “Castiel has done so much for the angel kind. It is only appropriate we give both of you the respect you deserve.”

“Don’t treat me as a guest, brother.” Cas pats Camael on the shoulder. “Nevertheless, I appreciate your hospitality.”

They head over to their tent, which is more of a cozy hipster themed campsite tent with white sheets hanging around mats and beanbags and a bed at the center with a metric fucktonne of pillows. Candles lit the room up with a pale yellow glow, shadows dancing around in slow waves on the sheets.

“Huh.” Dean blurts out. “This is marvelous.”

“I see your vocabulary has expanded beyond ‘awesome’.” Cas comments.

Dean turns to face the angel, closing the distance between them with a kiss. He feels Cas melt into it, hands coming around to circle Dean’s waist. They stand there exploring each other’s mouths until Dean’s skin feels like it’s on fire. He pulls away, raising a hand to cup Cas’ jaw.

“Someone’s a bit too cocky.” 

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Cas asks. “Are you hungry?”

“Nah.” When he thinks about it, he hasn’t felt hungry or thirsty or even the need to take a leak since he’s been here. Must be a heaven thing. “I’m good. Other than the fact that I’m a shit brother.”

“No, you’re not.” Cas says, without missing a beat. “I can say that for a fact because you put your own soul ahead of your brother’s life and deemed yourself to eternal suffering. No part of that action is selfish or evil Dean.”

Dean lets out a sharp exhale at the memory. He shakes himself out of it and grins at Cas, “At least, I got _you_ out of it.”

Cas huffs a tiny laugh and dives forward to kiss him but stops in his tracks, a thin line forming between his brows. Dean opens his mouth to ask Cas if he’s okay but right then, the ground shakes beneath them so vigorously, tipping Dean’s balance. Cas grabs his hand, fingers iron grip around his wrist. 

Dean looks around confused and back at Cas, “Was that a heavenquake?”

Cas’ eyes widen, the silver of blue barely visible, “Dean, we need to-” His words die out as the ground rumbles violently, before the tent comes crashing down on them.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in updating. Time is just a construct at this point.

### Chapter 15

_"You who have suffered find where love hides."_

“Dean!” Castiel tears the debris away, finding Dean unconscious and buried under sheets and strips of wood. He loops and arm around Dean’s shoulder and pulls him up. Castiel shakes his shoulder, and the hunter blinks his eyes open, trying to focus on the scene around him. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean lets out a groan, a hand coming up to rub his own forehead, “Uh, yeah. What the fuck was that?”

“I’m not sure.” Castiel hauls him to his feet, scanning for any visible injury. Castiel taps into his grace and uses the energy to null any aches on Dean’s body. The hunter shudders softly, his soul letting out a gentle flare. “Let’s go check.”

They step around the strewn pieces of the collapsed tent into the woods outside to find many of the sheds in a similar condition — tousled up and buried under clouds of dust — with his brothers and sisters climbing their way out of the chaos. Castiel locates Camael in the crowd and walks towards him.

"What happened?" 

"We're not sure. There was an explosion took place beyond the creek." Camael says, eyes wide and panicked, "I have sent a group of angels to assess the situation."

"Thank you. I will go myself and check."

"Woah, slow down, Cas." Dean stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "You can't go out there alone. Who knows what the fuck is going on there?"

"I agree with the hu- _Dean_." Camael nods. "The angels will return with information."

Castiel jerks away from Dean's grip, "How can I stay here while other angels are out there? Their lives are no less important than mine."

"I get where you're coming from, Cas." Dean says, "But they aren't what Zachariah or this Archangel is looking for. You're on top of their hit list. So just stay here, please."

Castiel regains some clarity at the desperation in Dean's voice. He sighs, "Alright. I will stay."

"That's right." Dean turns to Camael, "Are any angels hurt?"

"Not fatally." Camael replies. 

Castiel and Dean head over to help the others up and check for any injuries. He watches Dean reassure his kin with the same empathetic tone he uses with victims during hunts, smiling and patting them on the shoulder even when it's not his responsibility. Castiel feels an overwhelming sense of love for the human — his boyfriend, though he's sure both of them are men rather than boys and their relationship is nothing akin to friendship. Human terminologies are always confounding.

"Commander, Nemiah and Sariel have come back with information." Camael rushes over. "Would you like to talk to them?"

"Of course." Castiel follows him, meeting Dean's eyes on the way and gesturing him along. 

"There you are." Nemiah calls, grinning. Castiel rolls his eyes, even as he smiles at her. Nemiah has always been one of the rebellious ones and probably the only angel who has spent more time on earth than Castiel. They both disbanded from their crowd for the same reason, but Nemiah was willing to cut ties completely for the one she loved. At one time, Castiel never really understood the motivation behind the decision, but now he knows. "Apparently, Raphael just nuked us."

"They attacked us with some sort of weapon, possibly extracted from Lucifer's crypt." Sariel clarifies. "It has created a giant crater on the ground. The only remnants we found were this." He hands Castiel a metal ball the size of a fist, with carvings all over them. 

"What Pokemon does that catch?" Dean comes up behind him. "What does it say, Cas?"

"It's Lucifer's markings, like a brand." Castiel trails his fingertips through the cravings. "They seem to have retrieved more from the crypts than we were able to."

"Dammit, we should've grabbed some weapons while we were down there." 

"I couldn't let you stay there anymore, Dean." Castiel replied, absently.

"Do you think there might be some left down there?" Nemiah asks.

"You know what, there could be." Dean adds. "I don't think they got time to do anymore raiding once they took Sammy…"

Just as Castiel's hands curl around Dean's waist protectively, his grace rushes forward to soothe the way his soul aches, even though the angels around him could see — to strengthen his point, Nemiah lets out a gagging noise. In angelic terms, a soul and angelic grace interacting is much more of an intimate act than humans perceive it to be. Though, Castiel cannot help it when Dean is in agony.

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean turns to him with a weary smile. "You think we can afford one more quick trip down there?"

"We need you here, Commander!" Camael interjects. "We could send a group of angels to inquire."

"Perhaps. But you still need-" Castiel cuts off, pinpointing the exact moment the same thought crosses his and Dean's mind. "No."

"Come on, Cas." Dean groans. "They need you here and they need a human to get into the vault and grab the stuff."

"Dean, I can't let you go like that."

"Look, I know we're sweet on each other and everything, but this is so much more than us. You gotta let me do what I have to." Dean counters. "It's just a quick trip, I'll be fine. I know it's hard for you but we just gotta trust each other to not die."

Castiel closes his eyes, letting out a deep exhale, "So be it." He turns to Camael. "Brother, I need you to lead our best team to rally a raid to the remaining crypt and retrieve the weapons."

"I will arrange it." Camael says, and walks away. 

"Having fun ordering people around, aren't you?" Nemiah huffs a laugh, turning on her heels and marching off with a wide eyed Sariel on her tow. 

"Cas," Dean pulls him forward by the lapel of his coat, "It's gonna be fine. I'll be back before you know."

Castiel doesn't say anything, as he sighs softly and leans his head on Dean's shoulder, basking in the hunter's warmth for a minute. Calloused fingers run through his hair soothingly and Castiel sulks further into Dean's chest. They stand there like that for a while until they start drawing attention. 

Dean is the first one to pull away, "How're you holding up?"

Castiel cocks his head, "You are concerned about me right now?"

"'Course, man." Dean sighs, "All of this is hard for you as much as it is for me."

"I'm alright, Dean." Castiel leans forward, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. Dean all but melts, hands coming around to rest on his waist. They kiss for a while until Dean seems substantially relaxed. 

"I was planning to offer you some distraction but the tent came crashing down." Castiel says, trying not to smile.

"Sneaky bastard." Dean chuckles against his lips. "And for cock-blocking me, those angels are gonna pay."

Castiel laughs, taking Dean's face in his hands. "Dean, I need you to promise me to be careful. Pray to me if anything goes wrong, or otherwise. I need to know you are safe."

"Promise." Dean nods, a small smile grazing his lips. "Fuck, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dean." Castiel thumbed the delicate skin under his eyes, petting the freckles visible even in the faint moonlight. 

He hears someone clear their throat behind them.

"We have a few hours till sunrise." Camael says, "We have restored the tent if you wish to rest."

"Thank you, Camael." Castiel replies, smiling at him in gratitude. When he turns back to Dean, the hunter's eyes glints mischievously.

"Guess we still have time for a quickie."

******

Dean palms his coat pocket one last time, feeling the metal of the angel blade against his palm and walks over to where Cas, Camael and that one angel, Nemiah, are standing.

“Are we ready to go yet?” 

“Yes. We’re waiting for commander’s orders.” Camael says, and out of the corner of his eyes he sees Nemiah roll her eyes. 

Dean chuckles, throwing his arm around Cas’ shoulder, “Then order away, Commander.”

“I’m not one to give you orders, Dean.” Cas says, but Dean doesn’t miss the tint of pink on his cheeks. “If you’re ready, you can proceed.” 

“I’m good to go.” Dean says, “What are you planning to do while I’m away?” 

“Find out anything I can about Sam.” Cas replies. “We already have angels scouring the premises for any indication of where he is. There are only so many places they can hide him. It would be easier if Sam tried to communicate to me.” 

“He would’ve if he could. Maybe he’s knocked out...” Dean trails off, not wanting to think of any other possibilities. 

“Dean, he’s alright, trust me.” Cas cups his face, the look in his eyes making Dean want to run for the hills.

“We shall proceed then?” Camael nudges Nemiah and they begin walking away.

Dean presses a kiss to Cas’ lips, drawing in a deep breath, “You keep yourself alive, okay?” 

“I will try my best.” Cas smiles, “I will see you soon.” 

Dean turns away and jogged over to Camael, not trusting himself to say anything else without tearing up. 

“You’ve really got Castiel wrapped around your fingers.” Nemiah comments. “What is it about you?”

Dean narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Nemiah.” Camael warns.

“I never thought I would live to see the day Castiel, out of all people, fall in love with a human.” She shrugs.

“You did.” Dean shoots right back.

“You know the story then.” She throws her head over her shoulder to look at him, her gaze icy. Cas had told him Nemiah had to leave heaven to live with the love of her life on earth, and was allowed back in only after Zachariah’s great regime fell. By then, her husband was long dead. “I was always the selfish black sheep but Castiel was the perfect soldier, and then he met you.” 

“Look, it’s not like I put a gun to the guy’s head and told him to love me.” Dean snaps, not sure where the anger is coming from. “For some reason, Cas seems to want to be with me. I can believe it no more than you can."

"Calm down, Dean." Nemiah eyes him, a small smile grazing her lips. "I didn't say it was bad."

He never really thought about any of it. _That's a lie, he definitely did_. Every time the thought that he's in love with an angel of the Lord ㅡ or even better, Cas loves him right back ㅡ comes to his head, Dean feels hot and cold all at once. There is this giant gaping pit in his stomach that never forgets to remind him how easy it is for him to lose Cas, just as easy as it is to forget all his worries in the angel's presence. Dean's inner monologue starts to turn eerily close to some Keats poem, so he shakes himself out of his own head.

Dean clears his throat, “Not to pry but where is your husband now?”

“Here. Living with my memories.” She shrugs. “At least, I’d hope so.”

“You didn’t...”

“I don’t know how to.” Nehemiah cuts him off. “He doesn’t even know Castiel let me back in. It’s not like I can just barge into his heaven and destroy the afterlife peace he deserves.”

“I’m no expert but all this crap about letting go of the people you love is just bullshit.” Dean says, “You gotta fight for the people you want in your life.” 

Nemiah glanced at him over her shoulder, “Looks like you’re not talking about my love life anymore.”

They travel back through the vaguely familiar path leading towards the entrance through which Cas led him. Camael just stares at the ground for some time and Dean nudges Nemiah with a questioning look.

"He's inspecting the entrance." She whispers. "Safety precautions."

"Everything seems to be in place." Camael declares, turning to him. "I'm going to guide you out if this-"

"Yeah, I know the drill, Cam." Dean waves him off. "Let's get going."

Camael puts his hand on Dean's shoulder and he slips his eyes shut involuntarily. When he opens his eyes, he's standing in the same forest in Finland, now in broad daylight.

“Oh wow, this looks-” 

Another press of fingers and Dean's feet lands next to the manhole inside the clearing in the woods.

“-nice.”

“I assume you know the way to the vault?” Camael asks.

“It was a straight tunnel. I don’t remember taking any turns.” Dean says, “But it was dark in there and I couldn’t see shit.”

He tries not to shudder at the memory of what happened the last time he was here. At that time, it was kind of surreal, watching the light die out of Alastair's grimy eyes. If it wasn't for Cas, Dean would've ended up dead or worse. 

“Leave that to us.” Nemiah eyes him with a calculating gaze, “You okay?”

"Uh, yeah. Let's get going."

  
  


******

Castiel led the two factions under his command into seclusion surrounding the building making up the office, far enough to stay out of the sight of enemy lines but close enough to witness any abrupt movements. 

“Up until this morning, the building was empty as informed by our search parties.” Castiel ushers. “Since they have Sam, it is likely they would expect us to come looking for him.”

Elijah tilts his head, “Is that not what we are doing?” 

"No." Castiel eyes the building. "I don't expect them to hold Sam captive anywhere obvious, considering how that could easily catch attention. Then again, they could be double bluffing."

"They what?" 

"Double bluffing. It's a term from-" Castiel stops himself at the confused look on his brother's face. "My point is, they would be expecting us to think they are hiding him in some high security surrounding. Our plan here is that we make no assumptions. Search anywhere and everywhere that deems suspicion." 

Heaven is filled with millions of human souls and finding Sam among them through the power of his grace is impossible. Perhaps, if it were Dean's soul, Castiel would have been able to identify it quite easily. 

"Castiel!" Tamoah jogs over to them, "The building seems to be lacking any movement inside. If you wish to go and search yourself, it can be arranged."

"I will," He turns to Elijah. "I need you to gather the factions and retreat back to the camp until we can figure out further plans."

Elijah shakes his head, "Castiel, you can't be out here alone."

"I will accompany him." Tamoah adds, before Castiel can object. "You are critical to us, Castiel. Besides, if something happens to you, we don't want to know what your Winchester would do to us."

Castiel huffs a laugh, "If you insist, brother."

And so Castiel, accompanied by Tamoah scour the building, which by now is in a state of wreck, among an unnerving number of vessels strewn across the floor. The sight is heartbreaking, many of his brothers and sisters losing their lives misled by some absurd cause that was fed into their minds as being beneficial to the angel kind.

"Castiel," Tamoah urges him on, with a hand on his shoulder. "There is no point in dwelling on who we have lost."

"We will retrieve the vessels and give them the proper rights they deserve." Castiel says, remembering with great regret that he too is occupying a borrowed sanctum. 

_Cas, you got your ears on? It sucks being here, but I'm fine. I hope you got something on Sammy._

Despite the morbid scene around him, Castiel smiles at Dean's prayer. He would do anything to give Dean his brother back. 

“Castiel!” Tamoah calls, and Castiel walks over to where Tamoah is kneeling next to a vessel. He recognizes the bloody form of the angel, his chest heaving as he struggles to hang on to the last bit of his essence.

“Akobel,” Castiel kneels down next to him, “You’re hurt.” 

“Just kill me, Castiel.” Akobel chokes out. “I- I would rather die than owe my life to- to you.” 

"I'm not sure what monster you have perceived me to be, but I will not harm you, brother." Castiel presses a hand to the stab wound on Akobel's stomach. "I need to know what happened here."

"The aftermath of the revolution you began," Akobel spits out. "You tore heaven apart and the moment you had the Winchesters involved in this, things stooped down to a new level of pathetic."

“Just shut up.” Tamoah barks, “What do we do with him, Castiel?” 

“Take him back to the camp.” Castiel replies.

"You could torture me all you want, but there is nothing you're going to get from me," Akobel sits up, his hands supporting him on either side. 

"I don't need anything from you, brother," Castiel shakes his head. "We painted humanity as the weak link in creation, meanwhile look at us. And I too hold responsibility for what heaven has become. We fight our inner conscience and with each other, only to end in destruction. Look around us, brother. All these lives would have been preserved if we were not trying to prove ourselves superior to everything. Do you think this is what our father would have intended?"

"You don't get to take our father's name, Castiel," Akobel barks. "If only you were to follow his orders-"

"Do you still believe he was the one giving orders?" Castiel asks. "If our father wanted us to jumpstart the apocalypse, how does that make us different from Lucifer? How does that make _God_ different from his son whom he cast out for being evil?"

"Does that matter anymore?" Akobel sighs dejectedly. "It's too late."

"Not if we can stop Raphael before he can destroy this universe." 

"And you want me to be your follower?"

"That's where you are mistaken, brother." Castiel says, "I'm no leader and no one is expected to follow me."

"Then, what do you want from me?"

Castiel stands up and offers his hand to Akobel, "I want you to be my ally."

  
******

"Dean, can you see anything?" Nemiah whispers.

"What do you mean?" Dean whispers back. "You guys are supposed to be the ones with night vision."

"We can see where we are going, dumbass. I was asking if you can see the vaults."

"Not yet." Dean whispers. "I remember the tunnels growing brighter as we got closer to the crypt."

"It can't be that far." Camael murmurs. "We need to be alert, in case any demons are standing guard."

"Me and Cas ganked a few of them on our first trip." Dean recalls. "By the way, why are we all whispering?"

Nemiah huffs a laugh, "I have no idea."

The tunnels grow brighter as they move further ahead, and Dean points towards the path farthest to the right, the one leading to the crypts. They walk until the path widens back into the room ahead of the crypts.

Dean forgets what he's supposed to do and why he's here when he sees the corpse of Alastair still strewn on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding it. Dean clenches his fist, the feeling of his blade passing clean through that demon's chest still livid in his memory. The heat surrounding them claws under Dean's skin, and his head is spinning and-

Alastair's vessel gets thrown to the far corner of the room in one swift movement and Dean blinks back to reality.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Nemiah asks, her eyes trained on the demon.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks" Dean nods, swallowing with an audible gulp. "I'm gonna go into the crypt. You guys stay right here."

Dean walks and pushes the knocker, and the door creaks open. Dean closes his eyes,

_I wish I was up there with you, Cas. I hope you're okay._

"Seriously?" Nemiah croaks.

Dean turns to her and looks back into the crypt, and this time to his surprise, the crypt is actually empty.

Dean takes a step back, "Hey, Cam, do that thing with your mojo to reveal the warding."

Camael stares at him but raises a hand and illuminates the wardings on the wall surrounding the crypt.

"It's the same as last time." Dean murmurs to himself.

"That means someone's been here after you and Castiel left." Camael says.

“It has to be-” Nemiah cuts herself off, her brows knitting together in concentration. “Dean, get behind me.”

“Like hell I will.” Dean draws his blade just as Nemiah and Camael pull their own out. He hears movement inside the tunnel, labored footsteps drawing closer to them. A figure emerges from the tunnel and Dean blinks back in surprise.

“Ruby?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Ruby grins, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before Dean can ask, _well, anything_ , Nemiah and Camael charge forward and Dean kicks his brain back into action and steps forward to stand between them and Ruby.

“Dean, don’t be stupid,” Camael growls, in a tone he’s never heard from the generally soft spoken angel. “Get behind us.”

“She’s not gonna hurt us,” Dean says, not believing the words falling out of his own mouth. “She’s a... _friend._ ”

“It’s an abomination-”

“For the love of hell,” Ruby curses, and that’s when Dean notices the rather heavy looking chest in her hand. “As much as I would like to get to know you guys, we don’t have enough time here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean asks, lowering his blade.

“The demons were fighting off Raphael’s angels in the other crypts because Alaistair said he would take you and Castiel.” Ruby says, looking behind her over her shoulder. “Once they heard about you killing Alaistair, they packed up their stuff and decided to camp out here to guard the weapons.”

“What’s in the chest?” Dean asks, somehow already knowing the answer.

“I walked in and grabbed whatever I could get my hands on, since I couldn’t really see what’s in there,” she says, holding out the chest. “If anything else is left in there, I can grab it.”

Dean carefully takes the chest from her, “Why are you doing this?”

“The hell if I know,” Ruby shrugs, and adds “Any news on Sam?”

“Dunno.” Dean says, “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ve been running with these weapons for a while now, and taking the demons on a merry go round with me.” Ruby says. “Take the weapons and go find Sam.”

“Ruby…”

She rolls her eyes, drawing a stolen angel blade out of her coat, “Just get out of my face.”

  
  


******

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's update might be a little early because I won't be able to update the week after that, mid sem and all that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your feedback in the comments...and don't be shy, leave a kudos.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, folks.

### Chapter 16

_"Let life be like music, and death a note unsaid."_

“I was not in support of abducting the Winchester. But Raphael knew that would bring you to him.” Akobel says. “Those who protested... you saw what happened to them.” 

Castiel nods understandingly. “How did you manage to escape?” 

“It was not so much of an escape, Castiel,” he recalls. “Had you not showed up, I would have joined the same fate as others.” 

Castiel sighs, “Raphael does not see the angels as nothing but his suicide bombers. Once he gets what he wants, he won’t hesitate to get rid of any loose ends that might turn into an obstacle in his path.” 

“Raphael demands a dictatorship, and it was too late by the time we figured that out.” Akobel says, “And the ones who decided to oppose him got wiped out. I hope you understand why some of us did what we had to.” 

“Compared to Raphael’s potential, any other side might look like the losing side.” Castiel says. “But our strength is in our unity, brother. We don’t need a superior to order us around. Free will is much of a boon to us as it is to humans.” 

In that moment, Castiel remembers the first time Dean presented him with the idea of following his own mind rather than blindly obeying orders. It was like a new door had opened up in front of him, an option he never knew existed. As time passed, it became clearer that the choice of free will came at the lives of many. 

“I hope this fight is worth the lives that have been lost.” Akobel ushers. 

“I promise you brother, once we attain our leashes from anyone trying to control us, the freedom will be worth the struggle.”

The tent flap opens, and Tamoah pokes his head in,

“Nemiah, Camael and Dean have returned.” 

“I’m sure they will be fine with waiting,” Castiel says, and turns to Akobel, “Forgive me, but you must understand, I can’t leave you here-”

“Yeah, I would not trust myself either,” Akobel huffs a laugh.

“I will stand guard, brother,” Tamoah says, and Castiel didn’t realize he was still listening. “You should go to Dean, I’m sure he has some good news.” 

Castiel stands to his feet, and pats Tamoah’s shoulder on his way out, “You should meet Dean sometime.” 

Tamoah smiles, “I will.” 

Castiel crosses the rows of tents, looking for Dean, his legs guiding him towards the bright burn of Dean’s soul on its own accord. Castiel can pinpoint the exact moment Dean’s soul recognizes his grace, just like how Castiel’s graze resonates with his soul, even before their eyes meet from a distance. In a swift moment, Dean is sweeping Castiel up in a hug, the warmth of Dean next to him filling up a missing part in him.

“I gather you missed me,” Castiel grins as Dean pulls away.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dick,” Dean’s hands comes up to cradle his face, pulling him into a soft kiss. When they pull apart, he asks, “What did I miss?” 

“We have a lead on Sam.”

Dean’s face splits into a grin, “Shut up.”

“Yes,” Castiel says, mirroring Dean’s smile, finally able to give him some good news. “Come on, let’s talk in our tent. You had a long day.”

******

“I still can’t believe Ruby just handed over the weapons like that,” Dean comments as a part of explaining everything that went down. “You sure these are not fake or anything?” 

“No,” Cas says, running his fingertips over the weapons. “Besides, who are we to assign people as good or bad anymore?” 

“Touche.” Dean leans back against their weirdly soft bed, laying his head on one of the metric fuckton of pillows. He couldn’t help feeling like things were finally starting to look up. _Finally_ , they have a lead on Sammy and he only hopes he doesn’t have to eat his words soon. He shakes himself out of his own scary thoughts and asks, “What do these weapons do exactly?” 

“This is _Dyrnwyn,_ the dagger of _Hael,_ ” Cas says, picking up a double edged sword the length of his forearm. “When drawn, it blaze with fire. If drawn by a worthy man, the fire would help him in his cause, but its fire would burn the man who drew it for an unworthy purpose.”

“Jesus fuck, that’s intense.” Dean walks over to Cas, lowering his arm. “Read the description before you pick up shit next time.” 

“All these weapons have a curse etched to them in this manner,” Cas says. “They were forged by Lucifer after all.” 

“At least, you’re worthy,” Dean adds, his own effort to boost morale. “Grow out your hair and you’ll make a neat Thor.” 

“Thor does not have long hair,” Cas says, simply, picking up another sword that begins glowing slowly the moment Cas’ hands wrap around its hilt. “This one actually belongs to the Norse Gods. The sword of Surtr.” 

“So, how does this whole God thing work?” Dean asks, finally getting the nagging question out of his mind. “I mean, there’s your dad and then there’s these other Gods…” 

“They are all creations ebbed from my father, Dean,” Cas explains, keeping the now glowing white sword down, its glow fading back into metal. “Deities, unlike my father, often masquerade as normal humans. They are closely connected to human faith meanwhile God is an omnipresent entity.” 

“Could check up on his kids once in a while,” Dean grumbles. 

“If it were before I met you, I would have said ‘God works in mysterious ways’,” Cas huffs a small laugh, which is so fucking adorable on its own, except for the tint of sadness behind it. “Now, I’m not sure what his intentions are.” 

“It doesn’t really matter, Cas,” Dean runs a hand through Cas’ hair, “Maybe he left to see what his kids would do with his creation. At least, I’m sure you didn’t disappoint him.” 

“What if this is not what God intended?” 

“Then, fuck him,” Dean blurts out, already booking himself a ticket to hell. “No offense but anyone with a pair of eyes can see what you’re doing is right, Cas. If he wanted his own creation to go to waste, he could just snap his fingers or some shit and we all would just stop existing.” 

Cas stares at him for a long while before a flicker of a smile flashes across his eyes and he pulls Dean into a kiss. It’s soft and desperate at the same time, like he’s searching for answers to the mystery of this universe in Dean. When they pull apart, Cas smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s forehead, and says, “I can’t let that happen.” 

Cas goes on to explain the different weapons and Dean contemplates going back and laying down on the bed as he feels his eyelids heavyㅡhe doesn’t even remember the last time he sleptㅡbut Cas is right there, so instead Dean wraps his hand around Cas’ waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. He talks about the Lance of Olyndicus, something called a _chakra_ which just looks like a small spiky vinyl, and even a few of those orb things Raphael attacked their camp with. 

Their tent’s flap lifts up and Camael stands at the threshold, Nemiah, Elijah and some other angel he doesn’t know behind him. Dean takes his sweet time letting go of Cas and waves at the angels.

“Please come in,” Castiel gestures them in.

“Are you drunk?” Nemiah raises an eyebrow at Dean. 

“Tired.” Dean corrects, and flops back on the bed. Suddenly, Cas is right next to him, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You should go to sleep, Dean.” Cas murmurs, “I will join you in a short while.” 

“If you insist, Commander,” Dean mutters lazily and rolls over, burying his face into the pillows. 

  
  


****** 

"We may have some powerful weapons with us, but we are not sure what Raphael has in store." Elijah says. "The other two crypts were raided too."

"We have Lucifer's spear," Camael adds.

"I have never seen that thing," Nemiah says, "Hope it would be enough."

"We have to try our best with the resources at hand," Castiel comments. "It's better if we keep the weapons hidden for now."

Hebbah raises a brow, "You don't trust us, Castiel?"

"I trust all of you as much as you are willing to trust my judgement." Castiel says. "This is not a matter of trust, sister, it's about safety."

"We understand, Cas," Nemiah pats him on the back. "And, we're glad you're here."

"And, Dean too." Camael pipes in.

Nemiah laughs at that, "He's annoying, but we'll take what we get."

"He's a little impulsive, but once you know him well, you would know he's a hero." Castiel says, defensively, looking over at the sleeping form of his lover. Dean looks peaceful, his face smothered into the pillow to the side, lips slightly parted. Dean fell asleep as soon as he went to bed, tired from not having rested for days on end, and Castiel feels guilty having pulled Dean into a mess that should have stayed as Castiel's own problem. 

"Is he the reason you decided to help restore heaven?" Hebbah asks.

"I would have wanted to help heaven no matter what," Castiel says without hesitation. "But, Dean gave me the strength to keep moving, and he reasoned with me when I was doubtful. I would have been lost without him."

"Love does that to you," Nemiah smiles sadly. 

"You should go find your husband, Nemiah," Castiel tells her. "If you want to spend the rest of your eternity in his heaven, with him, you can do that. There is nobody making rules anymore."

"Winchester said the same," she huffs a laugh. "If I make it out of this alive, I will."

Castiel gives her a nod of encouragement, and turns to Camael, "I need you to store the weapons safely for the night. I hope the plan is clear. We will be leaving first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Commander," Camael gathers the weapons and heads outside, the rest of the angels following him.

Castiel sheds his trench coat and suit jacket and sits at the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake Dean as he's a light sleeper. But he still can't resist running his fingers through Dean's hair, every sensation in him overwhelmed by the marvel that is Dean Winchester.

"Cas?" Dean murmurs sleepily, rolling over and resting his head on Castiel's lap. 

"I'm here," Castiel says softly, threading his fingers through the spikes of Dean’s hair. 

"Bed's for lying down, angel," Dean mutters. 

Castiel complies, scooting down to lie next to Dean and pulling him close to his chest. 

"Everything okay?" 

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel finds himself saying. "Raphael wants me and that's why both you and Sam got entangled in this mess."

Dean lifts his head, green eyes looking up at him with an unreadable expression, "Would you do the same for me or Sam?"

Castiel knows he doesn't need to answer that for Dean to know his response. Instead, he pulls Dean closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and says, "I'm glad you're here, Dean."

"Me too."

The world around them falls dark and silence fills up the empty spaces between them, and it's comfortable. It's amazing. Dean's fingers trace unrecognizable patterns on Castiel's skin, and in that moment, everything feels like it's going to be fine.

After a while, Dean's hand stills, "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"How many wings do you have?"

"Three pairs of wings," Castiel replies, slightly confused by the tangent of their conversation. "Why did you ask?"

"Dunno, I was kinda hoping to see them."

"My true visage can cause you harm, Dean," Castiel explains. "You might not be able to see my wings but you can feel them."

Dean's attention spikes up at that, and Castiel takes note of the flutter of Dean's soul, "I wanna feel your wings, please."

Castiel huffs a laugh, knowing he would never be able to deny Dean anything, "Close your eyes."

"Fuck yeah," Dean whispers and closes his eyes, an excited grin on his face. 

Castiel taps into his grace and manifests his middle pair of wings that emerge from his shoulder bones, and he feels Dean's hands grope around his feathers, just as an array of conflicting emotions from confusion to disbelief flicker across the hunter's face.

"Holy shit, this can't be real." Dean sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers curling through Castiel's feathers with gentle precision. His feathers bristle under Dean's touch and Castiel sighs softly. It's an act of trust to let anyone touch an angel's wings, let alone a human. But Castiel trusts Dean with his life and will until eternity.

"That's exactly what you said the first time you saw my wings."

"I'm so glad I was wrong," Dean says. "About your wings, about you..."

He lets Dean run his fingers through his feathers for some more time before reminding him to go back to sleep.

Instead of listening to him, Dean asks, "What do they look like?" 

"I’m not sure it will make sense to you if I try to explain. The human mind is not evolved enough to perceive certain images," Castiel says. "Only one pair is used for flying, rest of them are for balance and combat."

"Alright, flappy bird," Dean all but giggles. "Love you.”

Castiel shakes his head in part amusement, and part affection, peppering kisses on Dean's skin wherever he can find. He closes his eyes and enjoys the warmth and surging glow of Dean's soul and body, filling the callouses in his grace and keeping him grounded. Love feels so spectacular, it’s a shame humans don’t spend their lives loving each other rather than spreading hate.

“It’s not the first time I saw your wings,” Dean says all of a sudden. “It was back in hell when you pulled me out.”

“You remember that?” 

Dean laughs softly, “Goodnight, Cas.”

  
  


******

Dean wakes up feeling the empty space next to him, and rubs his eyes on the back of his palm. His question is answered when he sees Cas pulling on his coat and drawing his blade. Dean rolls out of bed, grabbing his own blade, hearing the far away commotion outside the tent. 

“Cas, what the hell is going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Cas mutters, right as Camael comes charging into the tent.

“Commander, you need to come with us right now.” 

Dean is already out of the door when Cas grabs him by the elbow. 

“Dean, you need to stay here.” Cas ushers, “It’s safer.”

“Cas, we’ve been through this,” Dean keeps his voice low. From where Cas is standing, he gets the concern but that doesn’t mean Dean is going to play the stay at home wife. “We’re in this together, living or dying.”

Cas doesn’t say anything but follows him out of the tent, and Camael ushers them over. They walk further into the forest and Dean turns to Cas, who shrugs, looking as confused as Dean feels. They come to a halt near a figure laying on the floor. Next to him, Cas sucks in a sharp breath, going rigid.

“Cas?” Dean places a hand on the small of his back.

“Who did this?” Cas asks, his tone burning with fury, so much so that Dean pulls his hand away on instinct.

“We’re not sure, Commander,” Camael says, looking scared out of his wits. “I was on my way back from _the task_ you gave me. That’s when I saw…”

“Who’s this?” Dean asks, not sure what the hell is going on.

“Akobel. He’s the one who gave us the lead to find Sam,” Cas says without taking his eyes off the body lying on the ground. “I left him... _Tamoah._ ”

With that, Cas starts speed-walking back to the tents, disappearing into one a few tents after theirs. Dean follows behind him, his legs coming to a screeching halt when he sees another body on the floor, no older than twenty, eyes burned out and a stab wound passing clean through his chest. For a fleeting moment, Dean’s mind flickers to Sammy, but he shakes himself out of his thoughts. Cas needs him.

“I should have been more careful,” Cas murmurs, his voice cold and distant. “I should have stayed... this is unfair…”

“Cas, baby,” Dean wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “Breathe.”

Maybe angels don’t breathe but Cas seems to come back to reality, at least a bit. Dean stands between him and the body, cradling Cas’ face in his hands.

“Dean…” Cas calls, his voice shaking. It breaks Dean’s heart.

All Dean manages to say is, “I’m here, angel.”

“You would have liked Tamoah,” Cas says after a while. 

Dean holds him tighter, “There’s nothing you could’ve done, Cas.”

“I left Akobel with Tamoah to stand guard. It should’ve been me instead.” 

“There is no trade here, Cas. It shouldn’t have been him _or_ you.” Dean replies. “Your life is not worthless.”

“Neither was his,” Cas pulls away from his touch, walking over to the angel’s vessel and kneeling down next to it.

Dean wants nothing more than to find Sammy, get his angel and get the hell out of heaven. He doesn’t know how things are going to be if- _when_ they make it out of this alive. Maybe Cas would want to stay. He doesn’t think about it now.

“Commander?” Camael calls from the threshold of the tent. “Do we have permission to take the vessels away?”

Cas doesn’t say anything, so Dean jumps in, trying to help in any way he can.

“Hey, Cam,” he calls. “Did you happen to see anyone around here on your way?”

“No,” Camael shakes his head. 

“Is there anyone who had any disagreements with either or them?”

“There were a few expressing displeasure at bringing the enemy to our side but no one would…”

“It’s someone from Raphael’s side trying to get rid of the only link we had.” Cas says.

“You think so?” Dean asks.

“Yes. Otherwise, they would never harm Tamoah.” 

“I mean, you would know if someone infiltrated, right?”

“Not if they don’t need to.”

“You think it’s someone from the inside?” Dean raises his brows. “This is like the worst time to have a spy.”

“Moreover, it’s a rather bold accusation to make.” Camael says. “If we point fingers at each other blindly, I’m sure that will damper the morale.”

“Those who did this will pay,” Cas bites out, voice cold. “In the meantime, we refrain from turning the people among us against each other.”

Dean walks over to Cas, gently guiding him to his feet, “Let them take the vessels away, Cas. Give him his last rights.”

“Okay,” Cas murmurs.

Dean gestures Camael to carry on while he guides Cas out of the tent and back to theirs. 

“There was nothing you could have done,” Dean reminds him.

“I know,” Cas nods. “They didn’t deserve to die.”

Dean stops walking, only to pull Cas into a hug, holding as tight as he possibly can. He rubs slow circles on Cas’ back, feeling the thump of his heart against Dean’s own. 

“I love you, Cas,” Dean says quietly. “I hope you never forget that.”

Cas shudders lightly, “It’s the only thing keeping me strong.”

******

Castiel notices the way Dean hovers around him all throughout the morning as they prepare to go on the mission to rescue Sam. He prides himself for being able to understand human behaviors—or, at least Dean's—more accurately than before, as now he knows Dean's way of caring for the people he loves is keeping an eye on them at all times or making jokes as a way to cheer them up.

As much as Dean's presence soothes Castiel, he can't help but succumb to the nagging guilt in the back of his mind. For that very reason, he needs to find Sam and bring him back to Dean while trying to keep his brothers and sisters alive. 

"You feeling okay, sunshine?" Dean asks, for the fourth time in the past hour. 

Castiel cups his cheek and presses a kiss to his lips instead of answering. The smile that spread across Dean's face is more beautiful than the entirety of heaven itself.

"Slow down, Keats," Dean laughs, and Castiel realizes he said the last part out loud. "I'm not pretty enough for you to go waxing poetic."

"You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Castiel caresses his cheek, feeling the light scratch of stubble on his palm. “You’re special, Dean.”

“As much as I’d like the ego boost, your buddy looks like he’s got news,” Dean says, gesturing over Castiel’s shoulder. He turns around to see Camael standing a few feet away, looking everywhere but at him and Dean. 

“We are ready to leave, Commander,” Camael says. “Search parties have scoured the premises for safety.”

“I assume all of you have your weapons secured,” Castiel says, tightening his grip on the spear in his hand. He sees Dean twirl the dagger from the weaponry he picked out in his hand, an absurdly enthusiastic grin on his face. “I need all of you to keep an eye out for one another at all times. Protect each other as brothers would, while trust the ones worthy of it.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Man, I can’t wait to be out there and throw a few punches,” Dean exclaims, and Castiel would have been concerned if it weren’t for the smile on his face. “I’ve been sitting ducks for so long.”

Castiel still doesn’t have a clue regarding the matter of ducks, but he says, “As long as you promise to be careful, you can punch a few angels.”

“Ain’t that the family spirit,” Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Show me the way, Cam.”

Castiel follows Dean and Camael through the clearing, keeping an eye out for the rest of the troops taking their positions. They once again make sure their coast is clear before heading for the personal heavens.

Now thinking about it, Castiel feels stupid for not realizing how plainly obvious where Sam might be. Keeping Sam Winchester hostage wouldn’t prove convenient to Raphael or Zachariah. So, it would be much easier to keep Sam locked up in one of the personal heavens specifically fabricated for him, perhaps in a set of artificial memories that might make Sam think he’s back at home on Earth rather than in heaven. 

“This is not looking very good,” Dean mutters ahead of him. “Everything’s way too quiet for it to not be a trap.” 

“Good thing we’re expecting a trap,” Nemiah shrugs. “I swear to God, if your stupid brother is not there-”

“Hey, don’t you dare talk about Sammy like that,” Dean snaps at her.

“Don’t make me separate the both of you,” Castiel warns. “Please be quiet and keep walking.” 

“Try not to give Commander a hard time,” Camael adds.

Dean snorts, “Kiss ass.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes, “Dean.” 

Dean chuckles, “Yeah yeah, I love you too.” 

The longer they walk, Dean’s concern seems to make more sense. The serenity around them is unnerving. Castiel keeps his eyes trained on Dean and his fellow angels, while his ears listen for any movement around them. Soon, they reach the part of heaven where the human souls reside. It’s the one and only section of heaven where angels had no rights to intervene, not like it matters taking account of everything that's going on.

Dean clears his throat, “Do we just walk in…?” 

“We can,” Cas confirms. “But, finding Sam might not be that easy. According to Akobel,” he swallows the tightness in his chest at the memory of his lost brother, and sees Dean come up to him with a hand on his shoulder. He gives Dean a nod to let him know he’s alright, and continues, “Sam is living in a fantasy in his own mind, tailored specifically for him. We’re not sure what it is. He could be back at his house in Sioux Falls to make it more realistic. Raphael can be crafty when he intends.”

“That son of a bitch,” Dean spits out. “If Sammy knew what was going on, his ninja turtle ass wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Dean is right. It’s never easy to hold a skilled hunter like Sam Winchester hostage in a traditional manner. Then again, he can’t be sure what Raphael is plotting since he knows Dean and Castiel would come searching for Sam no matter what.

“I am sure Sam would be infuriated,” Castiel replies. “We can split into three groups and scour the personal heavens. Camael, you take one group, and Nemiah, you can take the other.”

“Yes, Commander,” Camael nods, the same time as Nemiah says, “I’ll do what I want.”

“She’s weird,” Dean says, as the assigned groups split away. Three angels excluding Castiel remain with them, and they head for the entrance.

“She reminds me of you,” Castiel shrugs. 

“You calling me weird?”

“I prefer the term peculiar,” Castiel says. “Everything about you makes me fall in love even more than I possibly thought I could.”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean breathes out. “You can’t say crap like that right before we’re jumping both feet into a goddamn kamikaze mission.”

“Then I will tell you once we are back home.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Castiel’s heart comes to a screeching halt in his chest. ‘Home’ is something Castiel never considered he ever had or would ever have in the near future. The world was Castiel’s sanctuary. Once Dean came along, every loose end of his life tied up into a single knot around wherever the hunter resided. Castiel found _home_ in Dean’s arms.

When he meets Dean’s gaze, the man’s eyes are glinting amusingly, “I’ll hold you to that.”

They cross the threshold to the personal heavens and Dean wobbles on his feet, Castiel steadying him immediately. 

“What the hell was that?”

“The power of souls here are immeasurable, Dean,” Castiel says, and turns to the three angels accompanying them. “Split and scour every part without disrupting the souls, and we will meet back here.”

The angels nod and scurry off.

“They look at you like you’re the Don Juan of angels,” Dean huffs a laugh.

“I don’t know who that is, but I despise myself for it,” Castiel says, too late to stop the words from spilling out of him. “I’m no hero, Dean. Everything I ever wanted was to let the angels live following their will and yet here I am, giving out orders.”

“Leading people ain’t wrong, Cas. It’s the kind of leader you are that shows your true intentions,” Dean states. “You’ve done enough for heaven and suffered through some crap for this whole free will shindig to warrant some respect.”

Castiel does not understand how Dean can be so full of love for everyone else around him but can never be selfish enough to spare some for himself. He leans forward and captures Dean’s lips in a soft kiss, keeping away all the love he can muster up solely for his lover.

“I’ll never get enough of that,” Dean chuckles as they pull apart. “Come on, let’s find Sam.”

They follow the rows and rows of doors with names attributed to different individuals scratched on the pearly white doors, and find themselves among innumerable number of doors with ‘Winchester’ labelled on them.

“I know all my family is dead, but this is just rude,” Dean scoffs.

“We will have to open every door until we find Sam,” Castiel reminds him.

“Sounds fun, let’s do this,” Dean says, and reaches for the first handle but his hand stops midway.

“Dean?”

“Will my mom be here, Cas?”

“Yes, she will be here,” Castiel replies. “If you want to meet her, I’m sure that can be-”

Dean shakes his head, “I don’t think that would do anyone any good. Besides, we gotta get Sammy out.”

Castiel does not push further and says, “Okay, Dean.” 

They start from the opposite end, ruling out each end and Castiel ends up opening Mary Winchester’s door. Her memories are made of John, a young boy with blonde hair and unmistakable sparkling green eyes, with a bundle of towel in her arms from where two tiny fists poke out into the air. Mary Winchester is at peace, and in her memories, so are John, Sam and Dean. Castiel is relieved that Dean does not have to go through a reminder of his painful past at the sight. Meanwhile, Dean moves through the doors, making comments about the relatives of his he does not recognize and assigning them imaginary relations he makes up impromptu. Castiel shakes his head in dejection but laughs along as Dean secures himself a large number of aunts, uncles and cousins, until finally they meet in the middle, a single door left to be opened. 

“This is it,” Dean breathes out.

“Go on,” Castiel takes a step back, letting Dean go for the handle.

The door swings open and Castiel lets out a sigh of relief, and Dean steps inside, his eyes fixed on the figure hunched over the desk in Bobby Singer’s living room.

He hears Dean draw out a sharp exhale.

“Sammy?”

******


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...I know it has been a really long while since I updated. If you are in loop with everything, I'm pretty sure you know how life has been a roller coaster since November 5th. Anyways, this is the second last chapter, I will be uploading the final chapter in a day or two because I don't want to stretch this along anymore. I had a bit more planned out but I cant find any motivation to proceed writing now. I hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 17

_"We lived with a love that was more than love."_

"Sammy?"

Dean is overwhelmed with the feeling of relief and happiness from seeing his brother alive. He wants to hug Sam while also whacking him upside the head for not being careful. The only problem is that Sam doesn't seem to be responding to him.

"Sam!" Dean calls louder this time. Nothing gives.

He feels Cas' presence behind him and the sound of the door to the room shutting. He takes a few tentative steps closer to Sam and reaches out to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and shakes, "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam turns around, looking puzzled. "Dean?"

"Heya, Sammy."

"How did….didn't you just go upstairs?" He asks, right as his gaze falls on Cas. "Shit, Cas, where the hell have you been? We were worried about you man."

“I’m fine, Sam,” Cas says, the words labored. “We need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam looks back and forth between them. 

Dean clears his throat, not sure how to go ahead with this, “Sammy, this is not real.”

Not very informative, but good enough.

Sam’s brows knit together, “What’s not real?”

“You’re in heaven, Sam. Everything around you is just made up.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam asks, looking completely lost. “Cas, you have any idea what’s up with him?”

Dean is more than happy to let Cas handle this mess, but Sam needs him to get them all out of this puppet show.

“Sammy, I need you to think hard,” Dean says. “What happened after you and Ruby went to raid Lucifer’s crypt?”

“We grabbed the weapons and you guys found the spear,” Sam says, easily. “We headed home to do more research and Cas took off to heaven.”

Now it’s Dean’s chance to be completely lost, “That’s not what happened, Sam.”

“What do you mean that’s not…” Sam frowns. “Did you happen to run into someone, Dean? Do you remember being atta-”

“I’m not under a fucking spell,” Dean snaps, frustrated. “Cas, can you back me up here?”

“Sam, you were kidnapped by Raphael’s angels during your mission to retrieve the weapons.” Cas says. “You are in heaven, trapped in a fantasy that was designed specially for you to coax you into thinking you are back at home.”

“I don’t…” Sam frowns, blinking down at the floor. “I’m in heaven?”

“Sammy, look at me,” Dean grabs his brother’s shoulder. “You know what really happened, just try to remember. You were brought here as hostage, Cas and I are here to get you out.”

“You have to make yourself understand that everything around you is just fabricated,” Cas says. “That’s the only way we can get you out of here.”

“Dean, I…”

“Come on, brother. Go back and think,” Dean ushers, feeling his heart sitting in the middle of his throat. “I’m here, it’s gonna be okay.”

Sam’s face morphs into a pained expression right before he falls to the floor, clutching his head in agony.

“Shit,” Dean tries to pull him up, and Cas is on the other side.

The room around them spins, flickering between colors and white, making him dizzy. Cas studies him, seemingly unaffected, and they don’t move until the world around them comes to a stop and they are standing in the empty white hallway, rows of doors on either side of them. Dean shakes his brother’s shoulder and Sam blinks up at them. 

“What the fuck just happened?”

Dean can’t help the laugh escaping him, “It’s a real shitty story, maybe later.”

They help Sam up and when Dean feels like his head has finally stopped spinning, he pulls Sam into a hug, trying to keep his knees from giving out with relief.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam claps him on the back, and surprisingly enough, turns to pull Cas into a hug. Dean laughs at the stunned expression on Cas’ face, letting himself breathe for a minute. “So, what did I miss?”

“A lot,” Cas says. “First, we need to get you out of here safely.”

“Maybe I can escort you,” A gruff voice says, and Dean sees Cas step in front of him, drawing his blade and Dean follows his motion, involuntarily stepping in front of Sam. 

“Zachariah,” Cas scoffs. 

“Long time, Castiel,” Zachariah sneers, tone dripping acid. “I waited long enough for this moment.”

“Walk away or you won’t even be alive to regret it, dickhead,” Dean barks. 

“Shut up, you maggot,” Zachariah growls. “You and your lap angel think you can stand against us and an Archangel?”

“Where’s this Raphael anyways?” Dean asks. “Did his agent double book him? Will he send a fruit basket?”

Zachariah lifts his hands and before Dean ends up turning into paper mache, Cas kicks the asshole square in the chest, sending him toppling backwards to the floor.

“Dean, get Sam out of here,” Cas says, his eyes fixed on Zachariah.

“Cas-”

“Just go, Dean.” 

Dean knows there’s no argument here, so he pushes Sam along, turning the corner back to the exit. 

“You can’t be seriously leaving him back there,” Sam points out, very helpfully.

“No, dumbass,” Dean hands Sam his dagger. “Stay right here and keep a lookout, and don’t you dare fucking get kidnapped again.”

Before Sam gets a chance to fire questions at him, Dean sprints back to Cas, the adrenaline coursing through his system firing up his nerves. His legs come to a screeching halt when he sees Cas pinned to the wall, a bloody gash running across the side of his stomach, and Zachariah’s blade pointed at his neck. Dean tries his best to not panic, and takes note of Cas’ blade lying on the floor a few feet away from Dean.

“You could’ve had everything you wanted, Castiel,” Zachariah blabbers on. “You could have been worshiped by the rest of the angel kind but you chose death instead.”

That’s exactly when Cas meets his eyes. Dean shakes his head in a desperate attempt to tell Cas to keep stalling, and he inches forward, holding his breath in his lungs. His hand closes around the blade and Dean prays to whoever the hell is listening to make this work.

“Hey, asshole!” Dean picks up the blade off the floor, catching Zachariah’s attention. In a swift motion, Dean buries the blade into Zachariah’s chin and up to his skull, stumbling away as the room explodes with the cascade of white light. When Dean opens his eyes, everything has fallen silent. Next thing he knows, he’s is lifting Cas off the floor, a hand around his waist and the other gripping his arm.

“We’ll get Camael to heal you,” Dean says, keeping his gaze fixed on the wound. Anything to not hear the roaring of blood in his ears. Once Cas is steady, Dean pulls the blade out of Zachariah and hands it to Cas.

“Come on, Sammy’s alone out there,” Dean reminds him. “Where’s the spear?”

“I’ve hidden it away from this astral plane.”

“Right, we need to keep moving.” Dean starts walking, only to be stopped by a vice like grip on his arm.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean swallows, something in him snapping like a dry twig. "Uh, yeah. Let's get going."

"Dean, look at me."

He snaps his eyes up to meet those blues and the dam just breaks. Dean tugs Cas into a hug, his heart rattling like rocks in a tin can in his chest.

"If I was even a minute late…  _ fuck, _ " Dean pulls away, his hands trembling as he cups Cas' face. "Don’t ever do that."

Cas cocks his head, “I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“Nevermind,” Dean shakes his head, a laugh escaping his chest. “Come on, Sammy’s out there.”

They meet Sam halfway across the hallway, and they set out to find the rest of the party. Camael, Nemiah and a few others join them on the way, none of them having any idea what kind of cluster fuck is happening outside the building.

“I left my troupe far enough for them to retreat if anything goes wrong,” Nemiah says. “You guys were taking too long so I panicked.”

“I assume Camael had thought along the same line?” Cas asks.

“Sorry, Commander,” Camael replies, not sounding sorry at all for looking out for Cas, and turns to Sam. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I was not expecting to find you alive.”

Sam balks, “I, uh…”

Dean snorts, “Don’t mind him, he’s just like how Cas used to be when we first met him.” 

“It’s good to know I have evolved,” Cas deadpans and turns to his second in command, “Camael, relocate all the tropes as far away from each other as possible,” Cas instructs. “Zachariah’s disposal might reach Raphael’s ears any minute and that might push him to the front lines. In the event of an attack, we need to make sure the casualties are to the minimum.”

Dean has no idea how bad this Raphael and his Brady Bunch can get, but from the fact that he’s an Archangel, and if he’s anything like Zachariah, Dean wouldn’t want Sammy or Cas anywhere in the line of danger. It’s not like he’s the only one out here about to get his ass grilled, but all these angels with their asses in line of fire means so much to Cas that Dean can’t help but pray everyone makes it out of this alive. Cas would be shattered if he loses anyone else, and Dean’s hanging on to Cas to keep himself afloat. Neither of them could take another blow.

“I will do so,” Camael nods.

Nemiah opens the door and they scramble to get out, only to end up with their feet glued to the floor at the sight ahead of them. 

“Shit,” Nehemiah whispers. 

The ground is littered with dozens and dozens of bodies, most of them unrecognizably burned, like they were somehow in the middle of an explosion. A shallow crater the size of a giant football has drilled through the ground, and smoke is everywhere, mixed with dust erupting from the ground. Sam nudges him and Dean just shrugs. In what was nothing more than an hour they were inside the building, nearly half of what was left of the angels became nothing but empty vessels. Dean’s head feels like it’s spinning and he doesn’t dare meet Cas’ eyes, fearing what he’s going to find there. 

“Cas…” Dean begins, hesitantly laying an arm on his back, not wanting to startle Cas and get turned into ground beef by his boyfriend. 

Cas’ though, has his gaze fixed somewhere far ahead of them, and Dean follows his line of vision, spotting a figure emerging from the cloud of dust, tall and menacing. 

The angel stiffens, “Raphael.”

******

Castiel is still new to emotions. Sure, there was pride when he fulfilled the orders given to him. There was satisfaction, every time he was able to help at least one human, a small _ miracle _ , they called it. There was sorrowㅡor at least a tinge of itㅡwhen he lost his fellow angels over the course of aeons. There was bliss, when he first laid his hands on the alluring pureness of Dean’s soul. And then there was love that Dean taught him. 

But Castiel has never felt such intense rage in his large eternity of a life, as he sees his brothers and sisters, burning away right in front of his eyes. And Raphael stands among the fallen, both his and Castiel’s men, like their dying breaths means nothing to him. Castiel wants to tear the Archangel apart, and he is not sure what’s holding him back. 

“Calm down, angel,” Dean murmurs, standing closer to him.

Castiel exhales slowly, but his rage never leaves him. 

“I need the troupes ready right now,” Castiel orders, watching Nemiah and Camael walk away through his peripheral vision. 

“He’s still got more angels behind him, Cas,” Sam says. 

“I don’t care,” Castiel answers. “Raphael goes down or I die fighting.”

“Then that son of a bitch will die today ‘cause I’m not letting you go,” Dean grits out. 

Castiel grabs his hand and squeezes, and Dean returns the gesture in a frenzy. Castiel wants to spend another thousand eternities next to his lover but all they have got is their quarter of a second, and that’s good enough when it’s Dean.

“Be careful, love,” Castiel chokes out. “And you too, Sam.”

He hears Dean’s shuddery exhale before the hunter speaks, voice barely a whisper, “Come back to me in one piece.”

Castiel has never been good at keeping promises, but this time, if there is a God that is listening, Castiel prays to let him go back to Dean safely. Their troupes gather around and Castiel painfully ignores the substantial decrease in numbers, knowing he will have even less heads to count when it’s all over.

“Castiel, it’s good to see you,” Raphael sneers. “I assume you are starting to regret your choices? It’s not too late, you know. I could always let you in to serve under me, but we will have to do something to make up for all the lost lives.”

“You speak like it matters to you,” Castiel barks. “When I took the oath to stay loyal to my cause, I meant to do the same until my last dying breath.”

“Very foolish of you,” Raphael grins menacingly. “At least it will be soon enough.” 

Castiel closes his eyes, manifesting the spear into his hands. The air around him trickles with raw energy and Castiel lets it seep into his core, feeling the power deep within him. 

“I’m impressed,” Raphael chuckles, not so much of an amusement in the tone. “It’s not the weapon that matters, Castiel, it’s the warrior.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, asshole,” Dean snaps, and Castiel is not really surprised. 

“Oh, Dean,” Raphael croons. “I’m so glad you are here. I will really enjoy killing you slowly until your angel can’t take it anymore and then I will kill him.”

“I would very much like you to try,” Castiel grins, recognizing Raphael’s tactic to get under his skin. “We put an end to this right here, right now.”

Raphael’s face darkens, “So be it.” 

In the next few seconds, chaos ensues as both the troupes charge towards each other. Castiel heads straight for Raphael, rage in his heart with dipped corners of fear for the ones around him, putting their lives in the line for this cause. Raphael charges with his long blade, aiming straight for Castiel’s chest. He sidesteps, but the archangel is quick as Castiel is sent toppling back a few steps from a blow to his thigh. The spear glows in his hand and Raphael aims for a kick to his hand, but Castiel parries away, ducking down and amazing for his knee. He misses Raphael’s leg by an inch and the archangel uses his vulnerable position as leverage to haul him down to the floor on his back, a hand coming around his neck, the hilt of the blade digging into his throat. He raises his arm but Raphael pins it down with his free hand, straddling him. 

“To be honest, I wasn’t anticipating this to end so soon, Castiel,” Raphael sneers. “Without a leader, your strays will be on my side. I will rewire their heads to clean off your corrupt ways.”

“My warriors will die with honor rather than follow your unjust ways,” Castiel spits out, his heart hammering against his chest. His soldiers are pledging their lives and Castiel couldn’t ignore the dying light spilling out of the angels around him, and Sam and Dean are here too, fighting the good fight. 

_ This is not how he dies. _

Castiel grips the spear tighter, waiting for the moment Raphael’s grip around his wrist loosens. The archangel now has his long blade pointed at Castiel’s throat, his free hand under Raphael’s knee. 

“Even in your last moments, you try so hard to act brave,” Raphael shakes his head, mocking pity on his face, careless as he speaks. “You’re nothing, Castiel. Just another worm in this cosmos.”

Castiel scoffs, “Yet, I make a difference.”

The grip around his wrist is loose enough, and Castiel uses his hips to surge forward in an attempt to flip their positions. Castiel is able to free himself from Raphael’s hold, but his efforts at holding the Archangel down are futile as Raphael pushes him back with hands on his chest, and stands. In a brief window of opportunity, Castiel aims forward, sidestepping Raphael’s blade and diving his spear deep into the Archangel’s chest. Thunder rumbles across the sky as Raphael’s vessel falls backwards and the spear clutters to the floor.

Castiel is not sure if he’s seeing the sight in front of his eyes. He feels his entire self trembling, his chest tightening as blood roars in his ears. The few soldiers fighting around him have gone as stiff as Castiel himself, meanwhile the others utilize the opportunity to take down their enemy. Castiel himself is distracted enough that he doesn’t see the angel blade coming against his back until someone blocks it. Castiel’s heart almost falls down to his stomach when he sees the one Winchester alone.

“Shit, Cas. You did it,” Sam sighs. “Get out of here, there’ll be more people coming for your head now.”

“Sam, I-”

“Go!” Sam snaps, diving his blade into an angel’s chest. “Dean needs you.”

Castiel jerks back to reality at that, and he grabs the spear from the floor, handing it over to Sam before sprinting towards the call of Dean’s soul, dodging and parrying attacks aimed his way. He finds Dean to the West, kneeling on the floor with someone laying on his lap. 

“Dean, are you-”

Castiel’s words die out in his mouth as he sees Nemiah’s still form sprawled on the ground, a stab wound on her chest coloring her clothes red. His legs refuse to move from the ground until Dean calls his name.

“Cas, she saved me...” Dean whispers, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry...” 

Castiel can’t find words to say, so he lets his feet carry him to Dean. He kneels down, wrapping the hunter in a hug with one arm while shutting Nemiah’s eyes with the other.

“She died with honor, Dean,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s shoulder. “Her death is not in vain.”

Dean pulls away, his face pale, “Raphael-”

“Dead,” Castiel declares, saying it out loud somehow not settling the crushing pressure in his chest. “He’s dead.”

“Fuck,” Dean leans his forehead against Castiel’s, “I was so scared, Cas.”

“Me too,” Castiel agrees. “We need to get you out of here.” 

Dean’s features harden and he asks, “What about the ones still fighting?”

“Either they die, or they surrender,” Castiel says, hoping it’s the latter. 

“I’m staying with you, Cas,” Dean grits out, and Castiel knows there is no further argument here. 

“Come on then,” Castiel tries to help him up, but stops to Dean scoop up Nemiah’s vessel in his arms. 

“We gotta get her somewhere back to camp,” Dean says, his voice hollow. “I… we could-”

“I will find Camael or someone trusted to take her back to camp,” Castiel tells him. He closes his eyes and calls for Camael. Few moments later, Camael arrives, looking disheveled and appropriate for someone who has been battling. When his eyes fall on Nemiah, Camael gulps audibly, the usually cheerful demeanor of the angel disappearing behind a veil of sorrow. 

“I will make arrangements to get her back to camp,” Camael answers without prompting. “You need to get Dean and move to safety.”

Castiel shakes his head, “I’m staying in the battlefield until the last enemy is fallen or captured. And, so is Dean.”

“There are not many left to take care of,” Camael replies. “Most of them are dead while the ones still standing have surrendered after Raphael met his fate.”

“Yeah well, we still gotta keep an eye on them,” Dean states, through gritted teeth. “One wrong move and a blade is all it takes and as much as I hate you assholes, I’m not willing to see anyone else die. Not Cas, not you.”

Camael blinks back in surprise, “Your brother has a number of angels captured and rounded up.”

“I will take you,” Castiel grabs Dean's hand, the feeling almost surreal as he realizes that he and Dean are alive. Safe. “You can go ahead and make arrangements for Nemiah…”

“Commander,” Camael calls, stopping Castiel. “It was Ambriel.”

“What was?”

“The spy.” 

Castiel blinks back, staring at Camael in disbelief. As much as it makes sense, Castiel doesn’t want to believe it. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean grits his teeth. “He was the one who went with Sammy to the crypt. I’m gonna kill-”

“He’s already dead,” Camael interrupts. “His last words were asking for forgiveness.”

“Round up our troops and head back to the camp,” Castiel says, not having the strength for any more bad news. “Sam, Dean and I shall handle the captives.”

Camael nods, and Castiel drags a dazed Dean along with him, his blade still in his hand, just in case someone attempts anything. 

“You couldn’t have protected her, Dean,” Castiel tries, knowing full well how unimpressive those words might sound to the hunter.

“She protected me, jumped in front of a blade that should’ve gone through me.” Dean says, a breathy laugh escaping his chest. It’s not sunny and endearing like it usually is, but filled with guilt and sorrow and all kinds of things he wishes Dean wouldn’t feel and say about himself. “Said she’d hate to see me die so young.”

“I will forever be indebted to her, Dean,” Castiel says, meaning every word of it.

“I couldn’t even see you out there, Cas,” Dean says suddenly, stopping to hold Castiel’s face in his hands, his voice coming out breathy and frantic. “Thought he’d got you, thought I lost... I should’ve been there with you, Cas. I shouldn’t have left you alone… I was so scared, I can’t lose you, I wanted to-”

“Dean,” Castiel shakes his shoulder, trying to stop Dean from rambling. Castiel’s heart feels like a boulder in his chest as he sees his lover teary eyed and his soul emitting waves of fear towards his grace. “The thought of coming back to you is what gave me the strength to keep fighting, Dean. Besides, I don’t think I would have had any presence of mind if I tried fighting with you in danger in my line of vision.”

“You’re the love of my life, Cas,” Dean breathes out, seemingly ignoring everything Castiel said. But he can’t find it in himself to complain, not when his voice feels like it’s stuck in his throat. 

_ Love of his life. _

Castiel has never really considered life as a tangible expanse of time because he’s immortal and time is insignificant to him. But now Castiel knows the difference. Life is not about time, but the people around whom you spend that valuable stretch of time. And Dean is not just the love of his life, he  _ is  _ Castiel’s life. 

He leans forward and catches Dean’s lips in a kiss.

“I have no words to express how much you mean to me,” Castiel whispers against his hunter’s lips. “But, I want to spend the rest of our time showing you the same.”

A small smile grazes Dean’s lips, “I can’t wait to go home.”

Castiel smiles and nods, resting his forehead against Dean’s. He’s already home.

  
  


******

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter very soon!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter. A big thank you to everyone who stuck through this, left comments and kudos. I love and appreciate each one of you. Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 18

_"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, for the ends of being and ideal grace."_

Dean picks up the chunk of wood and tosses it on the last burning pyre, mind numb as his hands do the work. He’s lost count of how many pyres he’s set up by now. But, Dean has to keep doing it for Cas. It’s barely been an hour since he watched the angel he loved bury his blade into his brothers’ and sisters’ chests, and he doesn’t even know if Cas will recover from something like that. Cas tried to talk to them, but barely anyone cared to listen. Rest of them were bent backwards, trying to make sure Cas goes down. Finally, there was no other way than to kill them. Dean offered to do the work, but Cas didn’t want blood on anyone’s hand except his ownㅡsome guilt ridden act to shoulder all the blameㅡand frankly, Dean gets it. 

“We’ve got this covered, Dean,” Sam says. “You go check on Cas.” 

“I guess he needs some space,” Dean replies. 

He probably does, but Dean wants nothing more than to curl up in Cas’ arms and forget everything else around him. It’s stupid and cowardly, but to hell with all that. Dean’s heart is clawing at his ribs with a new thought that leaves him wanting to dig a hole and bury himself in it. 

_ What if Cas chooses to stay? _

It makes complete sense, and Dean can only wish it didn’t. Heaven is in chaos, and the angels need someone to lead them because they can’t seem to get the dictatorship fantasy out of their heads. And if anyone deserves to rule over heaven, it’s Cas. It would be unfair of Dean to ask Cas to stay with him, leaving the angels behind, because at the end of the day, heaven is Cas’ family and he’s still an angel. They knew this would be Sophie’s choice, death or tears before they signed up for this, and Dean shouldn't be so surprised. A part of him still believes that Cas would come home with Dean, and that part is really bold with its beliefs. But if Cas chooses to stay… 

“Okay, you need to get out of here,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Dean’s face. “Just go find Cas. He doesn’t need space, he needs you. You need him too.” 

“Alright,” Dean says, absently. “Just call me if something’s up.” 

Dean finds Cas in their tent, on the far end of the bed, facing away from the entrance. He hesitates at the door, the lump in his chest making it hard to breathe. 

“Come in, Dean,” Cas says abruptly, voice hoarse. The three syllables are said with the kind of coldness that makes Dean’s gut drop. It’s almost as though it’s not  _ his  _ Cas, not even the angel that showed up in his living room announced all those months ago. But, Dean knows there’s still a part of his Cas buried in there, holding on, and damn him if he doesn’t try to bring that back. 

Dean walks over and sits next to Cas, the aching distance between their bodies holding everything that’s left unsaid.

“How are you holding up, Cas?” 

Cas sighs deeply, “Am I supposed to lie?”

“No, not with me,” Dean replies, inching closer to him. “I know it’s fucked up, but if you think about how things would’ve gone if Raphael had control over heaven, the damage is-”

“Justifiable?” Cas snaps, eyes locking with Dean’s. “Could simply be ignored?” 

Normally, Dean would’ve snapped right back like some fucked up angry boomerang, but right now he has plans to hold Cas close and stay there until something starts making sense, and if Dean is about to split ways with Cas, this is not how he wants to end it. So Dean ends it the way he wants to. He grabs his face and kisses Cas hard on the mouth, deep and desperate. Cas stiffens underneath him but relaxes quickly enough to kiss back with even greater desperation. It could be hours or minutes before they pull apart, panting against the shared space between them. 

“I’m not saying we should throw a party,” Dean starts, when he feels an apology bubbling at Cas’ lips. “But, hanging on to this will destroy you, and I can’t lose you like  _ that. _ ” 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, and Dean’s heart flat lines in his chest from the emotion behind the single word. “I need you.” 

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and Dean pushes Cas back against the bed and kisses him, hands roaming for purchase on anything and everything. Cas too seems to be on the same page as he tugs Dean impossibly closer with a fist in his hair, his other hand roaming Dean’s face and chest. Cas gasps softly underneath him, and Dean swallows that sound and etches it into his memory in a kiss. 

“Cas,” Dean can ignore the way his voice cracks but not the way his heart does. 

Instead of pulling him closer, Cas draws back, only far enough to meet his Dean’s eyes. Dean’s hands itch to pull him back, but he waits. 

“You’re hurting, Dean,” Cas murmurs, brows drawn together. 

“I’m not-” 

“I can sense it,” Cas draws back further, hands coming up to cup his face. “Your soul.” 

_ Godfuckingdammit. _

“Well, it’s not exactly sunshine and daisies up here,” Dean scoffs, burying his face in the crook of the angel’s shoulder. “And I’m not the only one here who feels like shit.” 

“You’re right,” Cas says, softly, his hands running up and down Dean’s back.  _ Christ on a stick, he doesn’t wanna let go.  _ “At least Raphael is dead.” 

“Might be famous last words, but I don’t think it can go any downhill from here.” 

“Heaven will need years, maybe decades, to get back into a sense of normality.” Cas notes. “It won’t be easy to instill the idea of freewill. The angels will always follow the next best person they think is  worthy enough to lead them.” 

_ It’s you, Cas.  _ Dean’s brain says, but his mind says to kiss him and that’s exactly what Dean does. He wraps his arms around Cas, too scared he might disappear if Dean lets go. But Cas is still here and always has been. 

He makes a quick work of stripping Cas off his trench coat and suit jacket, unbuttoning the dress shirt enough to slide his palm on the warm skin on Cas’ chest. 

Cas’ hands are not far behind as he draws back to tug at the hem of Dean’s shirt, and Dean complies, lifting his arms to let Cas pull the shirt off. Dean can sense the cool wind blowing against the tent curtains and he shivers, but Cas pulls him closer, and the warmth is right there. 

“Beautiful,” Cas murmurs against the skin on his neck, the only word he catches among the many unknown languages flowing past Cas’ lips, but all of them fill his chest with the same kind of content. 

“Getting kinda lonely up here, babe,” Dean chuckles, fisting Cas by the hair and pulling him up into a kiss. The little gasp that escapes the angel’s lips will be something Dean will remember to his dying breath. Dean pushes Cas further back down until he feels Cas relax underneath him. He mouths at Cas’ chest before making his way down, licking and sucking down all the spots he knows gets his angel all riled up. 

“Dean, where are you-” 

“Shh, I got you,” Dean mouths against Cas’ collar bone, before leaving a soft kiss there. 

Cas’ breath hitches and Dean grins up at him, hooking his finger into the waistband of his boxers and pulling it down along with his pants. Cas’ erection brushes against his chin and Dean wants to laugh at his own teenage self for ever thinking he was straight. He licks a long stripe up the shaft, swirling his tongue around the slit on his way up, and Cas’ fingers thread into his hair in a soft grip. Dean sucks him down without any more wait, basking in the little noises that spill out of Cas’ chest. The sounds Cas make when Dean swallows around him is downright  _ intoxicating.  _ With a low whimper, Cas comes down his throat, and the salty tang on his tongue has nothing on the way Cas looks down at him, blue eyes glinting even in the pale light of the flickering candles. 

“Why are you still down there?” Cas croaks, and Dean snorts as he crawls his way up. 

“You were always grumpy after an orgasm,” Dean laughs, kissing Cas soundly. His breath hitches when a fist closes around his cock, and he lets Cas stroke him lazily between kisses, until he can’t take the heat in his belly anymore and joins him to speed things up. Dean comes with Cas’ name on his lips like a mumbled prayer, sinking further into the angel’s chest after. 

Dean doesn’t want this to be a goodbye, but Cas has to do what he thinks is right. It would be pretty fucking hypothetical of him to tell Cas what to do after all his ramblings about free will and what not. Maybe he’s too human to be selfless, but if it meant having Cas in his lifeㅡto be by his side during hunts, to share early morning kisses, or to just lay there with Cas tracing patterns onto his back as they are right nowㅡwould be everything Dean doesn’t deserve and more. 

Dean sighs “What’s going on there, Picasso?” 

“Your soul follows my touch, and my grace clings to your skin,” Cas replies, simply. “I used to be bewildered by the despair that bled from Achilles once Patroclus died. It was as though his world had come to a stop and he couldn’t exist as a whole until he had gotten his revenge. But now I know, Dean... I would have done the same for you.”

Dean forgets to blink, and then he forgets to breathe, but none of it even fucking matters. Every moment with Cas is like a hundred post-orgasmic glows that never fade, and Dean feels his chest crumble at the weight of it. He draws back slowly, meeting Cas’ eyes, and the way Cas looks back at him has Dean melting into a puddle right then and there. 

“I’m just...  _ me. _ ” 

“Exactly,” Cas smiles, a soft and warm thing. “I never knew who or what I was, but I was sure of my love for you. And that made me want to fight.”

“I was always told what I had to be by my dad. I was nothing more than his good soldier,” Dean huffs a tired laugh. “And there you were in my living room, telling me I was so much more than that.”

Cas hugs him, and Dean happily tucks himself against the comfort of the angel’s chest, “You are.”

Dean doesn’t argue, “Guess we’re birds of the same feather, then.”

******

It’s too early in the morningㅡat least in regards to human timeㅡso Castiel is surprised when Dean wraps his arm around his waist from behind, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder. His skin is sleep-warm, and Castiel can feel the heat even from the layers of obstruction between them. Camael and Elijah stare at him, stopping midway through their discussion, and Castiel just shrugs lightly, unable to keep himself from smiling. 

“Don’t mind me,” Dean mutters sleepily. “I just missed Cas.”

Dean is very affectionate in private, but it’s those rare times that the hunter expresses his feelings outwardly and Castiel can’t help but relish in it. He wants to shield Dean from the rest of the world, keeping him safe and away from harm, but he knows Dean wouldn’t be in accordance with that. Instead, Castiel turns his head to press a kiss to Dean’s temple and returns to his conversation. 

“We need to start rebuilding as soon as possible, before another faction forms to raise objections,” Camael says. “The only unaffected area is the personal heavens.”

“I’m suggesting we demolish all symbols of authority,” Castiel states, and Dean hums along, perhaps in agreement or at something else entirely.

“Demolish?” Elijah narrows his eyes. “But where are we going to…” the angel trails off.

Castiel snorts, “Exactly my point, brother. Everything that was a part of Raphael's regime has no use except to stand as a symbol for all that was wrong with heaven.” 

“Look at you going full anarchist,” Dean murmurs. “Love it.”

Camael nods sagely, “I stand with Commander on this.”

“Please call me 'Castiel',” he says, “We are trying to abolish hierarchy here, Camael.”

“I’m sorry, Castiel,” Camael laughs nervously. “My point still stands.” 

“We can consider this with everyone else and come to a decision,” Castiel says. “Call a meeting, if you can. Let’s settle this at the earliest.” 

“We’re glad you are here to guide us, Castiel,” Camael says, and Dean bristles against him, but slumps back down quick enough. “I will arrange a meeting.” 

Dean murmurs something along the lines of “Elijah” and “buzzkill” as the two angels leave the tent. He lets out a frustrated grunt when Castiel pries Dean’s hands away from around his waist, only to turn around to meet his eyes. Castiel often prefers to concentrate on human souls rather than their physical attributes, but with Dean, it doesn't really matter. His physical self is as breathtaking as his soulㅡglass green eyes that rivals every blade of grass Castiel has absently picked from the forest floors all across the world, little collections of stars that splay across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, like constellations tethered to earthㅡand Castiel realizes he has found his place in this universe. 

“You better follow with a proposal after looking at me like  _ that _ ,” Dean grins wide, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Mornin’, Cas.” 

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel runs his thumb across the apple of Dean’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know me. Same old, same old,” he shrugs. “What’s on your checklist for today?” 

“Nothing in particular after the meeting,” Castiel replies. “Are you ready to leave?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean looks down at where their hands are linked, and then asks in a low voice, “How long are you gonna stay?” 

Castiel cocks his head, “What do you mean?” 

“You know, you’ve Rebel Alliance all good and ready here for you. It might take a while to get things back in order,” Dean says, not even stopping to catch his breath. “I just wanna know if it’s gonna be  awhile before you come down or-” 

“I’m coming back to earth with you, Dean.” Castiel cuts in, not understanding why Dean thinks he would want to stay. 

Dean’s eyes widenㅡonly a fraction of an inch, but Castiel notices is nonethelessㅡand he asks, “With me? Like now?” 

“Yes, whenever you are ready,” Castiel nods. “Unless you don’t want me to.” 

_ “I don’t want you to-?” _ Dean balks. “Why would I-  _ what the fuck, Cas? _ ”

It dawns on Castiel that Dean’s thoughts are travelling in a different direction than he anticipated. He tugs Dean closer and rests his hands on his hips, “You thought I would stay back?”

Dean’s lips press into a thin line, “Can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t,” Castiel replies. “Frankly, it’s a little  _ surprising  _ that you think I would leave you after all this time.”

To put it that way, is an understatement. Castiel is feeling all those human emotionsㅡhurt, offence, disappointmentㅡthat he once believed were foreign. After everything they have been through, Castiel couldn’t possibly exist with the idea of being far away from Dean. If heaven is the family that was thrust upon him, then Dean is the family he found. 

“Careful, Cas, you’re starting to sound like me,” Dean laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean it that way.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, feeling his borrowed heart crumble in his chest. It hurts him to see how Dean thinks so low of himself and considers himself to be unworthy of good things. If he looks hard enough, Castiel can see the weight of the entire world that was thrust upon Dean’s shoulder at the mere age of four, weighing him down to his knees. But somehow, the hunter still holds on, shines bright as the early summer sun. Castiel sees in Dean everything his father saw in his creation.

“ _ Goddammit,  _ I messed up, didn’t I?” Dean smiles wearily.

“I wouldn’t want you-  _ us  _ to be perfect, Dean,” Castiel replies. “I told you how I’m willing to spend the rest of my eternal life showing you that I will be here for you, and I meant it.” 

Dean shakes his head, laughing softly, “You’re too good to me angel.” 

The world around them grows bright and Dean’s arms feel like they belong around him. If he could have the hunter in his arms for the rest of eternity, Castiel knows every fight he’s fighting will be worth it. Maybe Nemiah was right, loveㅡin the purest sense of the wordㅡmakes even angels fall. And, if it’s for Dean, Castiel is more than willing to go chasing the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes, I did that thing where the title of the fic is also the last line, I know. Anyways, thank you all for reading. I will be back soon with a new fic, it's going to be full of hurting and healing. Take care until then.
> 
> Check out my other works 


End file.
